I'm A Librarian, Not An Oracle.

And Now I Understand That Truth Casts A Spell Of Its Own, One I'm Not Sure Of How To Hold On To, Though I'm Desperate To Try.

Can We Really Conquer Chaos So Easily? If That Were So, I Should Be Able To Prune The Pandemonium Of My Own Soul Into Something Neat And Tidy Rather Than This Maze Of Wants And Needs And Misgivings That Has Me Forever Feeling As If I Cannot Fit Into The Landscape Of Things.

The Uncertainty Of Our Future Is Nothing More Than A Fog Of Breath On A Windowpane.

As A Kid, I Imagined Lots Of Different Scenarios For My Life. I Would Be An Astronaut. Maybe A Cartoonist. A Famous Explorer Or Rock Star. Never Once Did I See Myself Standing Under The Window Of A House Belonging To Some Druggie Named Carbine, Waiting For His Yard Gnome To Steal His Stash So I Could Get A Cab Back To A Cheap Motel Where My Friend, A Neurotic, Death-obsessed Dwarf, Was Waiting For Me So We Could Get On The Road To An Undefined Place And A Mysterious Dr. X, Who Would Cure Me Of Mad Cow Disease And Stop A Band Of Dark Energy From Destroying The Universe.

We Create The Illusions We Need To Go On.