I Do Not Fight Against Men, But

Strictly Speaking, There Are No Holidays For Art; Art Pursues You Everywhere, And That's Just Fine With The Artist.

Trust Is Fine, But Control Is Better.

As Is Said About Most Writers: On The One Hand All I Ever Did From When I Was A Child Was Read, And I Was A Loner, Which Was Furthered By My Parents And My Upbringing.

Every Day, A Piece Of Music, A Short Story, Or A Poem Dies Because Its Existence Is No Longer Justified In Our Time. And Things That Were Once Considered Immortal Have Become Mortal Again, No One Knows Them Anymore. Even Though They Deserve To Survive.

Love Points The Way. Desire Is Its Ignorant Advisor.