Reality Is A Fragile Thing.

It's A Cruel World, Don't You Think?

You Know What They Say: When People Start Burning Books They'll Soon Burn Human Beings.

Perhaps The Story In The Book Is Just The Lid On A Pan: It Always Stays The Same, But Underneath There's A Whole World That Goes On - Developing And Changing Like Our Own World.

My Daughter, Anna, Is Almost 15, And My Son, Ben, Is Almost 10.

Blue As The Evening Sky, Blue As Cranesbill Flowers, Blue As The Lips Of Drowned Men And The Heart Of A Blaze Burning With Too Hot A Flame. Yes, Sometimes It Was Hot In This World, Too. Hot And Cold, Light And Dark, Terrible And Beautiful, It Was Everything All At Once. It Wasn't True That You Felt Nothing In The Land Of Death. You Felt And Heard And Smelled And Saw, But Your Heart Remained Strangely Calm, As If It Were Resting Before The Dance Began Again. Peace. Was That The Word?