My Imagination Is My Polestar; I Steer

How Many Human Eyes...had Snatched Glimpses Of Their Secret Anatomies, Down The Passage Of Years?

Leavening The Flat Bread Of What We Know, With The Yeast Of What We Dream May Come To Pass.

True Joy Is A Profound Remembering; And True Grief The Same.

Superman Is, After All, An Alien Life Form. He Is Simply The Acceptable Face Of Invading Realities.

I Firmly Believe That A Story Is Only As Good As The Villain.