There Are Lives Lived For Love, And

Behind Their Eyes The Hope Was Sickening And In Many, Dead. They Lived From Event To Event With A Subtle Terror Of The Gap Between, Filling Up Their Lives With Distractions To Avoid The Emptiness Where Curiosity Should Have Been.

We Each Die Countless Little Deaths On Our Way To The Last. We Die Out Of Shame As Humiliation. We Perish From Despair. And, Of Course, We Die For Love.

Funny That. We Live In Islands Of Hours And We Never Seem To Have Time Enough For Anything.

Well, Here He Was. They Could Save Each Other, The Way The Poets Promised Lovers Should. He Was Mystery, He Was Darkness, He Was All She Had Dreamed Of. And If She Would Only Free Him He Would Service Her - Oh Yes - Until Her Pleasure Reached That Threshold That, Like All Thresholds, Was A Place Where The Strong Grew Stronger, And The Weak Perished. Pleasure Was Pain There, And Vice Versa. And He Knew It Well Enough To Call It Home.

There Are Things That Are More Important Than The News And What’s Happening Today. There Are These Archetypes Which Are Part Of The Human Imagination Since Humans Were Presumably Imaginative. And I Think That’s What [people] Find Touching, These Eternal Ideas. It’s One Of The Things That Makes Fantasy Something That Tends To Stand The Test Of Time Because We’re Reading, 50 Years Later, The Lord Of The Rings.