Never Believe Your Eyes

A Monster Lies In Wait In Me,a Stew Of Wounds And Misery.but Fiercer Still In Life And Limb,the Me That Lies In Wait In Him

O Little One, My Little One, Come With Me, Your Life Is Done. Forget The Future, Forget The Past. Life Is Over: Breathe Your Last.

His Body And His Mind Went About Their Different Businesses. The Former, Freed From Conscious Instruction, Breathed, Rolled, Sweated, And Digested. The Latter Went Dreaming.

I Haven't Even Had A Life I Could Call My Own, And You're Ready To Slot Me Into The Grand Design. Well, I Don't Think I Want To Go. I Want To Be My Own Design.

Nothing Ever Begins. There Is No First Moment; No Single Word Or Place From Which This Or Any Story Springs. The Threads Can Always Be Traced Back To Some Earlier Tale, And The Tales That Preceded That; Though As The Narrator's Voice Recedes The Connections Will Seem To Grow More Tenuous, For Each Age Will Want The Tale Told As If It Were Of Its Own Making.