There's A Way In Which 'the Illusion'

The Smallest Indivisible Human Unit Is Two People, Not One; One Is A Fiction. From Such Nets Of Souls Societies, The Social World, Human Life Springs.

The Dreams Of The Left Are Always Beautiful - The Imagining Of A Better World, The Damnation Of The Present One. This Faith, This Luminescent Anger - These Are Worthy Of Being Called Human. These Are The Beautiful That An Age Produces.

I Love Reading; It's A Great Way To Avoid Writing.

In A Sense, I Feel Like The Job Of The Artist At All Times Is Essentially The Same, Which Is Simply To Tell The Truth. I Mean, I'm Nervous About Any Prescriptions For What A Writer Should Or Shouldn't Do.

That It Should Be The Questions And Shape Of A Life, Its Total Complexity Gathered, Arranged, And Considered, Which Matters In The End, Not Some Stamp Of Salvation Or Damnation That Disperses All The Complexity Into Some Unsatisfying Little Decision - The Balancing Of Scales.