I Don't Take Accusations Of Selling Out

I Love Meeting People Who've Read My Books. The Prime Reason To Be On The Planet Is To Make Things I Can Show To Other People: Paintings, Books, Movies.

I Don't Take Accusations Of Selling Out Lightly.

Even Winter — The Hardest Season, The Most Implacable — Dreams, As February Creeps On, Of The Flame That Will Presently Melt It Away. Everything Tires With Time, And Starts To Seek Some Opposition, To Save It From Itself.

Make Your Own Worlds. Make Your Own Laws. Make Your Own Creations, Your Own Star Systems. Don't Feel Answerable To Anyone, Or As Though You Have To Create After Some Preordained Model. You Don't Have To Write Like Myself, Or King Or Anne Rice: Be Yourself. Nothing Is More Wonderful Than Discovering A New Voice, Particularly If It Happens To Be Your Own.

His Body And His Mind Went About Their Different Businesses. The Former, Freed From Conscious Instruction, Breathed, Rolled, Sweated, And Digested. The Latter Went Dreaming.