There Is Only One Whedon, And I

You,” I Said, “are Sweet Music In A Distant Room.

Nobody Cooks Using Just One Ingredient. Why Would You Write Using Just One Flavor Of Story?

There Is A Sort Of Camaraderie That Rarely Exists Except Between Men Who Have Fought The Same Enemies And Know The Same Women.

Each Woman Is Like An Instrument, Waiting To Be Learned, Loved, And Finely Played, To Have At Last Her Own True Music Made.

Secrets Of The Heart. We Swallow Hard Against Them Every Day, Forcing Them Deep Inside Us. There They Sit, Growing Heavier, Festering. Given Enough Time, They Cannot Help But Crush The Heart That Holds Them.