I Love Crime, I Love Mysteries, And

They Had Discovered One Could Grow As Hungry For Light As For Food.

The Quiet, Singing Voice Of The Rose. The Song That Promised All Might Be Well, All Might Be Well, That All Manner Of Things Might Be Well.

Stories Are Artifacts, Not Really Made Things Which We Create And Can Take Credit For, But Pre-existing Objects Which We Dig Up.

If You Want To Play, You Gotta Pay.

The Dream Didn't Fade As Dreams Usually Do Upon Waking.