By Things So Achingly Small Are Lives

There Was Some Sadness In How That Could Happen, Tai Thought: Falling Out Of Love With Something That Had Shaped You. Or Even People Who Had? But If You Didn't Change At Least A Little, Where Were The Passages Of A Life? Didn't Learning, Changing, Sometimes Mean Letting Go Of What Had Once Been Seen As True?

In This World, Where We Find Ourselves, We Need Compassion More Than Anything, I Think, Or We Are All Alone.

She Was Owner And Captive, Both, Of A Bitterly Divided Heart.

Why Did Becoming Accustomed To Something Have To Render Its Pleasures Stale.

Fantasy Is, At Its Best, The Purest Access To Storytelling That We Have. It Universalizes A Tale, It Evokes Wonder And Timeless Narrative Power, It Touches Upon Inner Journeys, It Illuminates Our Collective And Individual Pasts, Throws A Focus Beam On The Present Day, And Presages The Dangers And Promises Of The Future.