Man Has Always Been Half-monster, Half-dreamer.

Edgar Allen Poe Really Started Me When I Was 8. I Fell In Love With Everything Of His.

He Glanced Back At The Wall. How Like A Mirror, Too, Her Face. Impossible; For How Many People Did You Know Who Reflected Your Own Light To You? People Were More Often--he Searched For A Simile, Found One In His Work--torches, Blazing Away Until They Whiffed Out. How Rarely Did Other People's Faces Take Of You And Throw Back To You Your Own Expression, Your Own Innermost Trembling Thought?

Day, After Day, After Glorious Day, I Was Falling In Love With Books.

Life Is About Trying Things To See If They Work.

I Have My Favorite Cat, Who Is My Paperweight, On My Desk While I Am Writing.