It Was As Though In These Last

A Monster Lies In Wait In Me,a Stew Of Wounds And Misery.but Fiercer Still In Life And Limb,the Me That Lies In Wait In Him

Fear Is A Place Where You Just Tell The Truth

One Part Of Love Is Innocence One Part Of Love Is Guilt One Part The Milk That In A Sense Is Soured As Soon As Spilt One Part Of Love Is Sentiment One Part Of Love Is Lust One Part Is The Presentiment Of Our Return To Dust

I Think That Horror Fiction Is One Of The Ways To Approach These Problems Of Death.

Nothing Ever Begins. There Is No First Moment; No Single Word Or Place From Which This Or Any Story Springs. The Threads Can Always Be Traced Back To Some Earlier Tale, And The Tales That Preceded That; Though As The Narrator's Voice Recedes The Connections Will Seem To Grow More Tenuous, For Each Age Will Want The Tale Told As If It Were Of Its Own Making.