A True Friend Is A Light In

I Sound Contemptuous, But I Am Not. I Am Interested--intrigued Even--by The Way Time Erases Real Lives, Leaving Only Vague Imprints. Blood And Spirit Fade Away So That Only Names And Dates Remain.

While I Wasn't Certain How I Felt About Spiritualists, I Was Certain Enough About The Type Of People Who Were Drawn To Them. Only People Unhappy In The Present Seek To Know The Future.

For It Is Said, You Know, That A Letter Will Always Seek A Reader; That Sooner Or Later, Like It Or Not, Words Have A Way Of Finding The Light, Of Making Their Secrets Known.

Cassandra Always Hid When She Read, Though She Never Quite Knew Why. It Was As If She Couldn't Shake The Guilty Suspicion That She Was Being Lazy, That Surrendering Herself So Completely To Something So Enjoyable Must Surely Be Wrong. But Surrender She Did. Let Herself Drop Through The Rabbit Hole And Into A Tale Of Magic And Mystery.

The World Was An Awfully Large Place And It Wasn't Easy To Find A Person Who'd Gone Missing Sixty Years Earlier, Even If That Person Was Oneself.