I Have To Feel What I'm Writing,

A Story Invites Both Writer And Reader Into A Kind Of Superficial Ease: We Want To Slide Along, Pleasingly Entertained, Lost In The Fictional Dream.

The Art Of Illusion Is Grace Itself.

Ah, Meese Has Brought Us Her Finest Goblets! A Moment, Whilst Kruppe Sweeps Out Cobwebs, Insect Husks And Other Assorted Proofs Of Said Goblets' Treasured Value.

The Only Death I Fear Is Dying Ignorant.

The Soul Knows No Greater Anguish Than To Take A Breath That Begins With Love And Ends With Grief.