After All, Where Can The Glorious, The

At Best You Can Hold Death At Bay, You Can Pretend It Isn't There; But To Deny It Totally Is A Sickness. And I Think That Horror Fiction Is One Of The Ways To Approach These Problems, And, Perversely Perhaps, To Enjoy A Vicarious Confrontation With Them.

There Are Lives Lived For Love, And Lives Lived For Art. We, Happy Band, Have Chosen The Later Persuasion.

Of All The Rash And Midnight Promises Made In The Name Of Love, None, Boone Now Knew, Was More Certain To Be Broken Than "i'll Never Leave You.

I Dreamed I Spoke In Another's Language, I Dreamed I Lived In Another's Skin, I Dreamed I Was My Own Beloved, I Dreamed I Was A Tiger's Kin. I Dreamed That Eden Lived Inside Me, And When I Breathed A Garden Came, I Dreamed I Knew All Of Creation, I Dreamed I Knew The Creator's Name. I Dreamed--and This Dream Was The Finest-- That All I Dreamed Was Real And True, And We Would Live In Joy Forever, You In Me, And Me In You.

You Must Be Careful With Kindness. It's Usually Mistaken For Weakness By Stupid People.