What A Plague Love Is!

The Spoken Word Is Nothing. It Hardly Lives Longer Than An Insect! Only The Written Word Is Eternal. - Balbulus

Who Are You?' Mo Looked At The White Women. Then He Looked At Dustfinger's Still Face. Guess.' The Bird Ruffled Up Its Golden Feathers, And Mo Saw That The Mark On Its Breast Was Blood. You Are Death.' Mo Felt The Word Heavy On His Tongue. Could Any Word Be Heavier?

The Night Breathed Through The Apartment Like A Dark Animal. The Ticking Of A Clock. The Groan Of A Floorboard As He Slipped Out Of His Room. All Was Drowned By Its Silence. But Jacob Loved The Night. He Felt It On His Skin Like A Promise. Like A Cloak Woven From Freedom And Danger.

Nothing Chased Nightmares Away Faster Than The Rustle Of Printed Paper.

Meggie Folchart: Having Writer's Block? Maybe I Can Help. Fenoglio: Oh Yes, That's Right. You Want To Be A Writer, Don't You? Meggie Folchart: You Say That As If It's A Bad Thing. Fenoglio: Oh No, It's Just A Lonely Thing. Sometimes The World You Create On The Page Seems More Friendly And Alive Than The World You Actually Live In.