I Like Films, Or Some Films, And

Maidens Who Stay Maidens Turn Into Saints. Old Women Become Sorceresses. Tough Jobs, Both Of These.

I Never Know Where I Am Going, Though. That Is Part Of What Makes It So Wonderful. And After All, Who Does?

We Need The Expressive Arts, The Ancient Scribes, The Storytellers, The Priests.

The Soul Is A Magician. Only Living Flesh Hampers It.

He Sat By Her, Watching Every Gesture She Made, As If He Would Paint Her Portrait Afterward.