Any Moment Called Now Is Always Full

But I Do Think It's Important To Remember That Writers Do Not Have A Monopoly Of Wisdom On Their Books. They Can Be Wrong About Their Own Books, They Can Often Learn About Their Own Books.

There Is No Knowing Beyond That Membrane, The Meniscus Of Death. What Can Be Seen From Here Is Distorted, Refracted. All We Can Know Are Those Untrustworthy Glimpses--that And Rumour. The Prattle. The Dead Gossip: It Is The Reverberation Of That Gossip Against The Surface Tension Of Death That The Better Mediums Hear. It Is Like Listening To Whispered Secrets Through A Toilet Door. It Is A Crude And Muffled Susurrus.

A Scholar Can Never Let Mere Wrongness Get In The Way Of The Theory.

A Sense Of Wrongness, Of Fraught Unease, As If Long Nails Scraped The Surface Of The Moon, Raising The Hackles Of The Soul.

The Problem With Most Genre Fantasy Is That It's Not Nearly Fantastic Enough. It's Escapist, But It Can't Escape.