As I Grew Up, One Of My

The Artist Seeks Contact With His Intuitive Sense Of The Gods, But In Order To Create His Work, He Cannot Stay In This Seductive And Incorporeal Realm. He Must Return To The Material World In Order To Do His Work. It's The Artist's Responsibility To Balance Mystical Communication And The Labor Of Creation.

I Have Loved Books All My Life. There Is Nothing More Beautiful In Our Material World Than The Book.

I Have Vague Memories, Like Impressions On Glass Plates.

Why Can't I Write Something That Would Awake The Dead? That Pursuit Is What Burns Most Deeply.

Grief Starts To Become Indulgent, And It Doesn't Serve Anyone, And It's Painful. But If You Transform It Into Remembrance, Then You're Magnifying The Person You Lost And Also Giving Something Of That Person To Other People, So They Can Experience Something Of That Person.