Self Pity Is Easily The Most Destructive

The True Artist Plays Mad With His Soul, Labors At The Very Lip Of The Volcano, But Remembers And Clings To His Purpose, Which Is As Strong As The Dream. He Is Not Someone Possessed, Like Cassandra, But A Passionate, Easily Tempted Explorer Who Fully Intends To Get Home Again, Like Odysseus.

We Read Five Words On The First Page Of A Really Good Novel And We Begin To Forget That We Are Reading Printed Words On A Page; We Begin To See Images.

They Watch On, Evil, Incredibly Stupid, Enjoying My Destruction. 'poor Grendel's Had An Accident,' I Whisper. 'so May You All.

Art Gropes. It Stalks Like A Hunter Lost In The Woods, Listening To Itself And To Everything Around It, Unsure Of Itself, Waiting To Pounce.

One Of The Many Interesting Challenges Nature Presents Us Is Its Apparent Disinterest In Maintaining The Order Humans Crave.