The Shelf Was Filled With Books That

Of Course, You Would Have To Be Insane To Hope Your Child Grows Up To Be A Playwright Or Poet. Given The Odds, You Would Have To Be Quite Cavalier About Your Children's Future.

I'm Not Afraid," Rafi Said. "why Not?" "if I Die Tomorrow It Will Have Been Useless To Have Been Afraid Today.

Such A Thing As The Child Left Alone To Die In The Hallway Was Unknown On The Marsh. But Here, In The Dawn, Was Mortality Itself. In The City Were Places To Fall From Which One Could Never Emerge -- Dark Dreams And Slow Death, The Death Of Children, Suffering Without Grace Or Redemption, Ultimate And Eternal Loss. The Memory Of The Child Stayed With Him. But That Was Not To Be The End Of It, For Reality Went Around In A Twisting Ring. Even The Irredeemable Would Be Redeemed, And There Was A Balance For Everything. There Had To Be.

Peter Lake Had No Illusions About Mortality. He Knew That It Made Everyone Perfectly Equal, And That The Treasures Of The Earth Were Movement, Courage, Laughter, And Love. The Wealthy Could Not Buy These Things. On The Contrary, They Were For The Taking.

To Be Mad Is To Feel With Excruciating Intensity The Sadness And Joy Of A Time Which Has Not Arrived Or Has Already Been.