I Picture Heaven As A Vast Library,

I Saw The Light,saw The Myriad Spirits Flying Loose Up The Tunnel Towards The Celestial Blaze, The Tunnel Perfectly Round And Widening As They Rose And For One Blessed Moment, One Blessed Tiny Instant, The Songs Of Heaven Resounded Down The Tunnel As If Its Curves Were Not Made Of Wind But Of Something Solid That Could Echo These Ethereal Songs, And Their Organized Rhythm, Their Heartbreaking Beauty Piercing The Catastrophic Suffering Of This Place-lestat

To Write Something, You Have To Risk Making A Fool Of Yourself.

We’re Going To Die And Not Even Know. We’ll Never Know, And All This Meaninglessness Will Just Go On And On And On. And We Won’t Any Longer Be Witnesses To It. We Won’t Have Even That Little Bit Of Power To Give Meaning To It In Our Minds. We’ll Just Be Gone, Dead, Dead, Dead, Without Ever Knowing!

When You Think Night And Day And Every Moment Only Of Pleasing Me, Things Will Be Very Easy For You.

What I Did Was Take The Jesus Of The Gospels, The Son Of God, The Son Of The Virgin Mary, And Sought To Make Him Utterly Believable, A Vital Breathing Character.