As A Person, I Do Ascribe To

When I Was Small And Easily Wounded Books Were My Carapace. If I Were Recalled To My Hurts In The Middle Of A Book They Somehow Mattered Less. My Corporeal Life Was Slight The Dazzling One In My Head Was What Really Mattered. Returning To Books Was Coming Home.

Amor Animi Arbitrio Sumitu, Non Ponitur; We Choose To Love; We Do Not Choose To Cease Loving.

In Terms Of Writing, I Think What Most Fiction Writers Treasure More Than Anything Is The Feeling That They're Living For The Length Of A Book Inside Another Person.

Childhood Is Such A Delicate Tissue; What They Had Done This Morning Could Snag Somewhere In The Little Ones, Make A Dull, Small Pain That Will Circle Back Again And Again, And Hurt Them In Small Ways For The Rest Of Their Lives.

If You Look At Communal Experiments In General For Any Amount Of Time, You'll Find A Lot Of Horrors: Raped Children, Sexual Slavery, Eugenics Experiments, On And On.