Memory, Prophecy, And Fantasy— The Past, The

There Are Lives Lived For Love, And Lives Lived For Art. We, Happy Band, Have Chosen The Later Persuasion.

Harvey Wasn't Interested In The Clothes, It Was The Masks That Mesmerized Him. They Were Like Snowflakes: No Two Alike. Some Were Made Of Wood And Of Plastic; Some Of Straw And Cloth And Papier-mâché. Some Were As Bright As Parrots, Others As Pale As Parchment. Some Were So Grotesque He Was Certain They'd Been Carved By Crazy People; Others So Perfect They Looked Like The Death Masks Of Angels. There Were Masks Of Clowns And Foxes, Masks Like Skulls Decorated With Real Teeth, And One With Carved Flames Instead Of Hair.

And In Time It Will Be As Though Men Had Never Come To This Perfect Corner Of The World-never Called It Paradise On Earth, Never Despoiled It With Their Dream Factories; And In The Golden Hush Of The Afternoon All That Will Be Heard Will Be The Flittering Of Dragonflies, And The Murmur Of Hummingbirds As They Pass From Bower To Bower, Looking For A Place To Sup Sweetness.

I Love Meeting People Who've Read My Books. The Prime Reason To Be On The Planet Is To Make Things I Can Show To Other People: Paintings, Books, Movies.

Superman Is, After All, An Alien Life Form. He Is Simply The Acceptable Face Of Invading Realities.