The Ultimate End Of Any Ideology Is

What Are The Odds That Two Separate Writers, Strangers, A Thousand Miles Apart, Would Each Invent Fictions In Which Guys Take Girls To An Esoteric Frog Lecture On Their First Date? If That Isn't Synchronicity, It's Something Equally As Weird.

Human Folly Does Not Impede The Turning Of The Stars.

It Was Autumn, The Springtime Of Death.

I Have Never Ever Googled Myself, In Fact I Think The Christian Right Prohibits Such Things.

You Know What I Mean? Real And Unreal, Beautiful And Strange, Like A Dream. It Got Me High As A Kite, But It Didn’t Last Long Enough. It Ended Too Soon And Left Nothing Behind.” That’s How It Is With Dreams,” Said Priscilla. “they’re The Perfect Crime.