Heaven Would Never Be Heaven Without You.

All Of Us Have A Path To Follow And The Path Begins On Earth.

He Pretended It Was The Only Thing That Kept Him From It. But, Far Back In His Mind, He Wondered If He Could Write Anything. Often The Question Threw Itself At Him When He Was Least Expecting It. You Have Four Hours Every Morning, The Statement Would Rise Like A Menacing Wraith. You Have Time To Write Many Thousands Of Words. Why Don't You? And The Answer Was Always Lost In A Tangle Of Becauses And Wells And Endless Reasons That He Clung To Like A Drowning Man At Straws.

He Stood There For A Moment Looking Around The Silent Room, Shaking His Head Slowly. All These Books, He Thought, The Residue Of A Planet’s Intellect, The Scrapings Of Futile Minds, The Leftovers, The Potpourri Of Artifacts That Had No Power To Save Men From Perishing.

Normalcy Was A Majority Concept, The Standard Of Many And Not The Standard Of Just One Man.

God, How Impossible Life Is Without Money. Nothing Can Ever Overcome It, It's Everything When It's Anything. How Can I Write In Peace With Endless Worries Of Money, Money, Money? (“disappearing Act”)