The Dreams Are The Skeleton Of All

Life Is Weather. Life Is Meals.

Sometimes I Write With A Particular Person In Mind. I Think It's Fair To Say That I Write For A Perceptive Reader. You Have To Get It. If You Don't Get It The First Time You May Not Understand. If You Like Repetition, Analysis, Explanation, You Probably Won't Like My Books.

It's Just That It's Hard To Believe In Greatness.

The Myriad Past, It Enters Us And Disappears. Except That Within It, Somewhere, Like Diamonds, Exist The Fragments That Refuse To Be Consumed. Sifting Through, If One Dares, And Collecting Them, One Discovers The True Design.

Sometimes You Are Aware When Your Great Moments Are Happening, And Sometimes They Rise From The Past. Perhaps It's The Same With People.