Actors Between Plays Are Like Ghosts Looking

I Believe That Dreams Transport Us Through The Underside Of Our Days, And That If We Wish To Become Acquainted With The Dark Side Of What We Are, The Signposts Are There, Waiting For Us To Translate Them.

During The Act Of Writing I Have Told Myself Something That I Didn't Know I Knew.

I Confess, Right At The Start, To The Doubts - And Sometimes Outright Dreads - That Go With Me As I Climb The Stairs To My Study In The Morning, Coffee Mug In Hand: I Have To Admit To The Habitual Apprehension Mixed With A Sort Of Reverence, As I Light The Incense . . . And Wonder: What Is Going To Happen Today? Will Anything Happen? Will The Angel Come Today?

The Race Of Children Possesses Magically Sagacious Powers.

There Are Two Kinds Of People. One Kind, You Can Just Tell By Looking At Them At What Point They Congealed Into Their Final Selves. It Might Be A Very Nice Self, But You Know You Can Expect No More Surprises From It. Whereas, The Other Kind Keep Moving, Changing... They Are Fluid. They Keep Moving Forward And Making New Trysts With Life, And The Motion Of It Keeps Them Young. In My Opinion, They Are The Only People Who Are Still Alive. You Must Be Constantly On Your Guard Against Congealing.