Curses Of Vanished Elders Echoed Down On

My Efforts With Hollywood Are Like Things Written In Water.

Evil Is A Point Of View.

Give Me A Man Or Woman Who Has Read A Thousand Books And You Give Me An Interesting Companion. Give Me A Man Or Woman Who Has Read Perhaps Three And You Give Me A Very Dangerous Enemy Indeed.

Words. Borne On The Ever Swelling Current Of Hatred, Like Flowers Opening In The Current, Petals Peeling Back, Then Falling Apart.

Would That Death Were Like This. Would That One Would Sleep And Sleep And Sleep Forever.