He's Not Human; He's An Empty Space

We Talked For Hours. He Talked And I Listened. It Was Like Wind And Sunlight. It Blew All The Cobwebs Away.

It Is Only When Our Characters And Events Begin To Disobey Us That They Begin To Live.

In Essence The Renaissance Was Simply The Green End Of One Of Civilization's Hardest Winters.

I Do Not Plan My Fiction Any More Than I Normally Plan Woodland Walks; I Follow The Path That Seems Most Promising At Any Given Point, Not Some Itinerary Decided Before Entry.

I Knew I Would Always Want To Go On Living With Myself, However Hollow I Became, However Diseased.