Doesn't Anybody Ever Want To Talk About

Death Comes Black And Hard, Rushing Down On Me From The Future, With No Possible Chance Of Escape.

Something Went Klunk. Like A Nickel Dropping In A Soda Machine. One Of Those Small Insights That Explains Everything. This Was Puberty For These Boys. Adolescence. The First Date, The First Kiss, The First Chance To Hold Hands With Someone Special. Delayed, Postponed, A Decade's Worth Of Longing--while Everybody Around You Celebrates Life, You Pretend, Suppress, Inhibit, Deprive Yourself Of You Own Joy--but Finally Ultimately, Eventually, You Find A Place Where You Can Have A Taste Of Everything Denied.

The Most Useless Job In The World Is That Of The Critic. That Is A Prejudiced Statement. I Admit It. I'm Prejudiced. I Hate Critics. ... And Now, As The Saying Goes (yesterday, I Couldn't Even Spell Critik), And Now I Are One.

It's Almost Always Dangerous To Be Right Too Soon.

Life Is Full Of Little Surprises. Time Travel Is Full Of Big Ones.