Obviously The Imagination Is Fueled By Emotions

In A Sense, I May Not Consciously Know What I'm Doing. I Feel That I'm Telling A Story. I'm A Kind Of Medium By Which Something Is Transmitted.

God's Blessing Is Not Always To Be Distinguished From His Wrath.

Her Visits To Her Former Hometown Were Infrequent And Often Painful. Pilgrimages Fueled By The Tepid Oxygen Of Family Duty, Unease, Guilt. The More Esther Loved Her Parents, The More Helpless She Felt, As They Aged, To Protect Them From Harm. A Moral Coward, She Kept Her Distance.

One Man's Insanity Is Another Man's Genius; Someday The World Will Recognize The Genius In My Insanity.

[emily] Dickinson, Our Supreme Poet Of Inwardness.