Nostalgia, The Vice Of The Aged. We

Midnight, And The Clock Strikes. It Is Christmas Day, The Werewolves Birthday, The Door Of The Solstice Still Wide Enough Open To Let Them All Slink Through.

I Should Have Liked To Have Had Him Beside Me In A Glass Coffin, So That I Could Watch Him All The Time And He Would Not Have Been Able To Get Away From Me.

Not Many People Can Boast A Photo Of Their Grandmother Posing For Kiddiporn.

A Mother Is Always A Mother, Since A Mother Is A Biological Fact, Whilst A Father Is A Movable Feast.

I Drew The Curtains To Conceal The Sight Of My Father's Farewell; My Spite Was Sharp As Broken Glass.