The Monster Nevers Dies.

Fantasy Has A Better Chance Of Lasting Than A Lot Of Other Things. The Hobbit And The Narnia Books, They Seem To Get Handed Down Father To Son, Mother To Daughter. Because They're Set In A Fantasy World, They Can Remain Relevant.

Love, The Simplest, Strongest, And Most Unforgiving Of All Emotions.

You Learned To Accept, Or You Ended Up In A Small Room Writing Letters Home With Crayolas.

She Is A Cat With A Burning Tail, An Ant Under A Microscope, A Fly About To Lose Its Wings To The Curious Plucking Fingers Of A Third-grader On A Rainy Day, A Game For Bored Children With No Bodies And The Whole Universe At Their Feet.

Yet Suppose Further. Suppose That All Worlds, All Universes, Met At A Single Nexus, A Single Pylon, A Tower. And Within It, A Stairway, Perhaps Rising To The Godhead Itself. Would You Dare Climb To The Top, Gunslinger? Could It Be That Somewhere Above All Of Endless Reality, There Exists A Room?...' You Dare Not.' And In The Gunslinger's Mind, Those Words Echoed: You Dare Not.