Our Knowledge Is A Little Island In

I Know As A Writer How Valuable A Tool Is The Wastebasket. Perhaps God Throws Away Many Experiments Before He Finds The Right Expression. Perhaps We Are The Discards - Or We Could Be The Part He Keeps. This Mystery Is What Keeps Us All Going, To See What Happens In The Next Chapter.

But If We Have People Who Have The Power To Tell A Story, There Will Always Be Readers.

In The Half Darkness I Winked To My Other Self, My Mad Dictator, And Congratulated Him On His Droll Victory. I Closed My Eyes And Felt The Warmth Flowing From Shosha's Head To My Face. What Did I Have To Lose? Nothing More Than What Everyone Loses Anyway.

Even In The Worm That Crawls In The Earth There Glows A Divine Spark. When You Slaughter A Creature, You Slaughter God.

When A Day Passes, It Is No Longer There. What Remains Of It? Nothing More Than A Story. If Stories Weren't Told Or Books Weren't Written, Man Would Live Like The Beasts, Only For The Day.