The Blood In My Veins Is Frozen

It Is, Of Course, The First Recourse Of Every Elitist To See Social Barbarism In Others.

Twenty Years Is, After All, A Long Time. We Are Not The Same People We Were. Old Friends, Lovers, Even Family Members: They Are Strangers Who Happen To Wear A Familiar Face. We Have No Right To Claim To Know Anyone After Such A Distance.

Recasting Fairy Tales Has Become A Publishing Sub-genre In Itself, And Has Been Done Both Well And To The Point Of Entropy. More Interesting Are Those Works Where The Structures Of Fairytales Are Abandoned But The World Of 'fairy' Is Imported As A Delicate Spice.

I Am Less Interested In Ghosts Than In People Who See Ghosts.

But There Are Times In Life When A Door Opens And You Are Offered A Glimpse Of The Light On The Water, And You Know That If You Don't Take It, That Door Slams Shut, And Maybe Forever. Maybe You Fool Yourself Into Thinking That You Had A Choice At All; Maybe You Were Always Going To Say Yes. Maybe Refusing Was No More A Choice Than Is Holding Your Breath. You Were Always Going To Breathe. You Were Always Going To Say Yes.