Lies Were Like Having A Pregnant Rabbit.

Every Time You Do A Good Deed You Shine The Light A Little Farther Into The Dark. And The Thing Is, When You're Gone That Light Is Going To Keep Shining On, Pushing The Shadows Back.

Why Did Men Worship In Churches, Locking Themselves Away In The Dark, When The World Lay Beyond Its Doors In All Its Real Glory?

I've Always Been Aware Of The Otherworld, Of Spirits That Exist In That Twilight Place That Lies In The Corner Of Our Eyes, Of Fairie And Stranger Things Still That We Spy Only When We're Not Really Paying Attention To Them, Whispers And Flickering Shadows, Here One Moment, Gone The Instant We Turn Our Heads For A Closer Look. But I Couldn't Always Find Them. And When I Did, For A Long Time I Thought They Were Only This Excess Of Imagination That I Carry Around Inside Me, That Somehow It Was Leaking Out Of Me Into The World.

We're All Made Of Stories. When They Finally Put Us Underground, The Stories Are What Will Go On.

We're All Made Of Stories. When They Finally Put Us Underground, The Stories Are What Will Go On. Not Forever, Perhaps, But For A Time. It's A Kind Of Immortality, I Suppose, Bounded By Limits, It's True, But Then So's Everything.