The Sunlights Differ, But There Is Only

We're Each Of Us Alone, To Be Sure. What Can You Do But Hold Your Hand Out In The Dark?

There's Nothing Wrong With Me...except Acute Chronic Fear.

The Notion That A Story Has A Message Assumes That It Can Be Reduced To A Few Abstract Words, Neatly Summarized In A School Or College Examination Paper Or A Brisk Critical Review.

Safety Lies In Catering To The In-group. We Are Not All Brave. All I Would Ask Of Writers Who Find It Hard To Question The Universal Validity Of Their Personal Opinions And Affiliations Is That They Consider This: Every Group We Belong To - By Gender, Sex, Race, Religion, Age - Is An In-group, Surrounded By An Immense Out-group, Living Next Door And All Over The World, Who Will Be Alive As Far Into The Future As Humanity Has A Future. That Out-group Is Called Other People. It Is For Them That We Write.

One Of The Things [fiction] Does Is Lead You To Recognize What You Did Not Know Before.