Novels Arise Out Of The Shortcomings Of

…my Solitude Is My Treasure, The Best Thing I Have.

Once You Get Older, People Stop Listening To What You Say. It's Very Agreeable Once You Get Used To It.

Books That Change You, Even Later In Life, Give You A Kind Of Electrical Shock As The World Takes A Different Shape.

Vocabularies Are Crossing Circles And Loops. We Are Defined By The Lines We Choose To Cross Or To Be Confined By.

He Was Beautiful, That Was Always Affirmed, But His Beauty Was Hard To Fix Or To See, For He Was Always Glimmering, Flickering, Melting, Mixing, He Was The Shape Of A Shapeless Flame, He Was The Eddying Thread Of Needle-shapes In The Shapeless Mass Of The Waterfall. He Was The Invisible Wind That Hurried The Clouds In Billows And Ribbons. You Could See A Bare Tree On The Skyline Bent By The Wind, Holding Up Twisted Branches And Bent Twigs, And Suddenly Its Formless Form Would Resolve Itself Into That Of The Trickster.