I Love The One Who Punishes Me

As They Die, The Ones We Love, We Lose Our Witnesses, Our Watchers, Those Who Know And Understand The Tiny Little Meaningless Patterns, Those Words Drawn In Water With A Stick. And There Is Nothing Left But The Endless Flow.

A Perfectly Evil Devil Makes Even Less Sense Than A Perfect God.

The Finest Thing Under The Sun And Moon Is The Human Soul. I Marvel At The Small Miracles Of Kindness That Pass Between Humans, I Marvel At The Growth Of Conscience, At The Persistence Of Reason In The Face Of All Superstition Or Despair. I Marvel At Human Endurance.

I Felt Ravaged, And With Both Hands In A Fantasy I Reached Out For Her Figure As We Ran Together Through The Meadow Which Belonged Only To Us And To Which These Others Could Never Be Admitted."oh, Inocent Love," She Said Even As She Drank From Me, "oh, Innocent Innocent Love."

First-person Narrators Is The Way I Know How To Write A Book With The Greatest Power And Chance Of Artistic Success.