Words Are Good For Saying What Things

We Shape Ourselves By Our Imaginative Reach.

Give Life Long Enough And It Will Solve All Your Problems, Including The One Of Being Alive.

Long Ago, Long Ago. The Simple Things Come Back To Us. They Rest For A Moment By Our Ribcages Then Suddenly Reach In And Twist Our Hearts A Notch Backward.

Increasingly I Think Of Myself As Some Strange And Solitary Conductor, Introduced To A Group Of Very Dynamic Musicians Who Happen To Be My Characters, And I Have No Idea How They Are Going To Play Together, And I Have Certainly No Idea How I Am Going To Put Manners On Them.

I'm A Complete And Utter Fiction. Then Again, We All Are.