I Love Your Silences, They Are Like

The Softness Of The Summer Day Like An Ermine Paw.

The Complaints Of The Child In Us Will Never Cease Lamenting Until It Is Consoled, Answered, Understood. Only Then Will It Lie Still In Us, Like Our Fears. It Will Die In Peace And Leave Us What The Child Leaves To The Man - The Sense Of Wonder.

Had I Not Created My Whole World, I Would Certainly Have Died In Other People’s.

There Is No Denying That We Are Suffering From A Collective Neurosis And The Novel Which Does Not Face This Is Not A Novel Of Our Time.

We Are Never Trapped Unless We Choose To Be.