I Had To Write About Realistic Circumstances.

As Her Analyst Had Told Her: The Deeper Buried The Distress, The Further Into The Body It Went. The Digestive System Was About As Far As It Could Go To Hide.

In A World Of Monotonous Horror There Could Be No Salvation In Wild Dreaming. Horror He Had Adjusted To. But Monotony Was The Greater Obstacle, And He Realized It Now, Understood It At Long Last. And Understanding It Seemed To Give Him A Sort Of Quiet Peace, A Sense Of Having Spread All The Cards On His Mental Table, Examined Them, And Settled Conclusively On The Desired Hand.

To Me There Is Nothing That Goes Against Nature. If It Seems Incomprehensible, Its Only Because We Havent Been Able To Understand It Yet.

The Vampire Was Real. It Was Only That His True Story Had Never Been Told.

No Longer Will You Be A Weird Robinson Crusoe, Imprisoned On An Island Of Night Surrounded By Oceans Of Death.