How Seldom We Recognize The Sound When

In The Vaults Of Our Hearts And Brains, Danger Waits. All The Chambers Are Not Lovely, Light And High. There Are Holes In The Floor Of The Mind, Like Those In A Medieval Dungeon Floor - The Stinking Oubliettes, Named For Forgetting, Bottle-shaped Cells In Solid Rock With The Trapdoor In The Top. Nothing Escapes From Them Quietly To Ease Us. A Quake, Some Betrayal By Our Safeguards, And Sparks Of Memory Fire The Noxious Gases - Things Trapped For Years Fly Free, Ready To Explode In Pain And Drive Us To Dangerous Behavior.

One Quality In A Person Doesn't Rule Out Any Other Quality. They Can Exist Side By Side, Good And Terrible. Socrates Said It A Lot Better.

Did You Ever Think, Clarice, Why The Philistines Don't Understand You? It's Because You Are The Answer To Samson's Riddle. You Are The Honey In The Lion.

I'm Doing One Of Three Things: I'm Writing. I'm Staring Out The Window. Or I'm Writhing On The Floor.

Nothing Made Me Happen. I Happened.