In The East Men Know Panic, But

Breathing, Sleeping, Drinking, Eating, Working, Dreaming, Everything We Do Is Dying. To Live, In Fact, Is To Die.

The Past Attracts Me, The Present Frightens Me, Because The Future Is Death.

The Public Is Composed Of Numerous Groups Whose Cry To Us Writers Is: 'comfort Me.' 'amuse Me.' 'touch My Sympathies.' 'make Me Sad.' 'make Me Dream.' 'make Me Laugh.' 'make Me Shiver.' 'make Me Weep.' 'make Me Think.'

Great Minds That Are Healthy Are Never Considered Geniuses, While This Sublime Qualification Is Lavished On Brains That Are Often Inferior But Are Slightly Touched By Madness.

You've Never Lived Until You've Almost Died. For Those Who Have Fought For It, Life Has A Flavor The Protected Shall Never Know.