Its Hard To Die. Harder To Live

Books ... Were Merely Nodes In A Near-infinite Matrix Of Information That Exists In Four Dimensions, Evolving Toward The Idea Of The Concept Of The Approximation Of The Shadow Of Truth Vertically Through Time As Well As Longitudinally Through Knowledge.

It No Longer Matters Who Consider Themselves The Masters Of Events. Events No Longer Obey Their Masters.

There Are Many Other Writers Whose Work I Admire Tremendously, But None Whose Work Struck Me At Just The Right Young Age. Jack Vance Taught Me That Speculative Fiction, Science Fiction, Could Be Wonderfully And Liberatingly Stylistic. It Didn't Have To Be Pulp Stuff. He Really Changed My Writing And My View Of Science Fiction, So If Nothing Else, My Little Homage To Him In The Novelette I Wrote For That Anthology Is My Thank-you To Him. He Helped Me See That Any Genre Can Have Excellent Writing In It.

We Are All Eaters Of Souls.

Once Upon A Time ... The Only Autonomous Intelligences We Humans Knew Of Were Us Humans. We Thought Then That If Humankind Ever Devised Another Intelligence That It Would Be The Result Of A Huge Project ... A Great Mass Of Silicon And Ancient Transistors And Chips And Circuit Boards ... A Machine With Lots Of Networking Circuits, In Other Words, Aping-if You Will Pardon The Expression-the Human Brain In Form And Function. Of Course, Ais Did Not Evolve That Way. They Sort Of Slipped Into Existence When We Humans Were Looking The Other Way.