Anybody In The Next Centuries Wanting To

There Is A Place In Men's Lives Where Pictures Do In Fact Bleed, Ghosts Gibber And Shriek, Maidens Run Forever Through Mysterious Landscapes From Nameless Foes; That Place Is, Of Course, The World Of Dreams And Of The Repressed Guilts And Fears That Motivate Them [i.e., The Unconscious]. This World The Dogmatic Optimism And Shallow Psychology Of The Age Of Reason Had Denied; And Yet This World It Is The Final, Perhaps The Essential, Purpose Of The Gothic Romance To Assert.

If There's One Thing I Can't Stand, It's Somebody Doing Something Because I Pushed Them In That Direction.

I Long For The Raised Voice, The Howl Of Rage Or Love.

I Used To Be Fond Of Indian Arm Wrestling.

I Have, I Admit, A Low Tolerance For Detached Chronicling And Cool Analysis.