Like So Many Named Places In California

It Is Simply Wrong To Begin With A Theme, Symbol Or Other Abstract Unifying Agent, And Then Try To Force Characters And Events To Conform To It.

This Spiritualist, This Statistician, What Are You Anyway?

A Woman Is Only Half Of Something There Are Usually Two Sides To.

Darkness Invades The Dreams Of The Glassblower. Of All The Unpleasantries His Dreams Grab In Out Of The Night Air, An Extinguished Light Is The Worst. Light In His Dreams, Was Always Hope: The Basic, Moral Hope. As The Contacts Break Helically Away, Hope Turns To Darkness, And The Glassblower Wakes Sharply Tonight Crying, "who? Who?"

For Every Kind Of Vampire, There Is A Kind Of Cross