The Truth Is The Light And The

The Act Of Writing Requires A Constant Plunging Back Into The Shadow Of The Past Where Time Hovers Ghostlike.

So Why Do I Write, Torturing Myself To Put It Down? Because In Spite Of Myself I've Learned Some Things. Without The Possibility Of Action, All Knowledge Comes To One Labeled "file And Forget," And I Can Neither File Nor Forget. Nor Will Certain Ideas Forget Me; They Keep Filing Away At My Lethargy, My Complacency. Why Should I Be The One To Dream This Nightmare?

There Are Few Things In The World As Dangerous As Sleepwalkers.

Power, For The Writer....lies In His Ability To Reveal If Only A Little Bit More About The Complexity Of Humanity.

Man's Hope Can Paint A Purple Picture, Can Transform A Soaring Vulture Into A Noble Eagle Or Moaning Dove.