It Was One Of Those Rare Times

Behind Every Closed Door Might Wait A Thief Of Minds And A Collector Of Souls.

Sorrow Is Not A Raven Perched Persistently Above A Chamber Door. Sorrow Is A Thing With Teeth, And While In Time It Retreats, It Comes Back At The Whisper Of It's Name.

I Admit To Having An Imagination Feverish Enough To Melt Good Judgment.

She Says What Holds Their Marriage Together Is That She Feels Too Damn Sorry For Him To Ask For A Divorce.

In Our Age, Self-indulgence And Self-destruction, Rather Than Self-sacrifice, Are The Foundations For New Heroic Myths.