One Cannot Begin A New Dream Without

Fiction Is The Lie That Tells The Truth, After All.

I'd Love To Think That People In The Future Would Gather In Theatres, At Conventions, And In Darkened Rooms, And Read It Out To Each Other.

Sometimes Human Beings Are Very Much Like Bees. Bees Are Fiercely Protective Of Their Hive, Provided You Are Outside It. Once You’re In, The Workers Sort Of Assume That It Must Have Been Cleared By Management And Take No Notice; Various Freeloading Insects Have Evolved A Mellifluous Existence Because Of This Very Fact. Humans Act The Same Way.

Every Lover Is, In His Heart, A Madman, And, In His Head, A Minstrel.

Stories Are Made Up By People Who Make Them Up. If They Work, They Get Retold. There's The Magic Of It.