Be Respectful Of Words. They Mean Something.

All Working, Practical Political Systems, Even Those Professing To Originate In Moral Grandeur, Are Based Upon And Operate By Contempt Of Human Life And The Individual Fate.

Mexican Writer And Diplomat, "pasado En Claro" ("a Draft Of Shadows") You Learn Something The Day You Die. You Learn How To Die.

Love Must Be Learned Again And Again... Hate Needs No Instruction, But Waits Only To Be Provoked.

A Novel Is Really Like A Symphony Where Instrument After Instrument Has To Come In At Its Own Time, And No Other.

Nothing Is Mine, I Have Only Nothing But It Is Enough, It Is Beautiful And It Is All Mine. Do I Even Walk About In My Own Skin Or Is It Something I Have Borrowed To Spare My Modesty?