Ambition Is Not A Dirty Word. Piss

A Story Invites Both Writer And Reader Into A Kind Of Superficial Ease: We Want To Slide Along, Pleasingly Entertained, Lost In The Fictional Dream.

The Only Consistent Narrative We Possess Is One That We Share With Every Other Life-form: We Are Born, We Live, And Then We Die.

So You Say, With Your Shiny Hair And Pouty Lips - And Those Breasts - Just Wait Till You Start Dropping Whelps, They'll Be At Your Ankles One Day, Big As They Are - Not The Whelps, The Breasts. The Whelps Will Be In Your Hair - No, Not The Shiny Hair On Your Head, Well, Yes, That Hair, But Only As A Manner Of Speech.

The Future Can Ever Promise But One Thing And One Thing Only: Surprises.

The Notion Of Evil For Its Own Sake Strikes Me As Boring -- All These Dark Lords Intent On Creating Wastelands Packed With Enslaved Victims... For What?