I'm Quite Good At Not Writing.

It Wasn't Torpor That Kept Her - She Was Often Restless To The Point Of Irritability. She Simply Liked To Feel That She Was Prevented From Leaving, That She Was Needed.

I'm Not Against Religion In The Sense That I Feel I Can't Tolerate It, But I Think Written Into The Rubric Of Religion Is The Certainty Of Its Own Truth. And Since There Are 6,000 Religions Currently On The Face Of The Earth, They Can't All Be Right. And Only The Secular Spirit Can Guarantee Those Freedoms And It's The Secular Spirit That They Contest.

The Cost Of Oblivious Daydreaming Was Always This Moment Of Return, The Realignment With What Had Been Before And Now Seemed A Little Worse.

All She Had Needed Was The Certainty Of His Love, And His Reassurance That There Was No Hurry When A Lifetime Lay Ahead Of Them.

The Primitive Thinking Of The Supernaturally Inclined Amounts To What His Psychiatric Colleagues Call A Problem, Or An Idea, Of Reference. An Excess Of The Subjective, The Ordering Of The World In Line With Your Needs, An Inability To Contemplate Your Own Unimportance. In Henry's View Such Reasoning Belongs On A Spectrum At Whose Far End, Rearing Like An Abandoned Temple, Lies Psychosis.