Through All The Windows I Only See

No One Ever Really Gets Used To Nightmares.

For Some Reason, You Will No Longer Be The Person You Believed You Once Were. You'll Detect Slow And Subtle Shifts Going On All Around You, More Importantly Shifts In You. Worse, You'll Realize It's Always Been Shifting, Like A Shimmer Of Sorts, A Vast Shimmer, Only Dark Like A Room. But You Won't Understand Why Or How.

The Greatest Of Love Letters Are Always Coded For The One And Not The Many.

He [zampano] Probably Would Of Insisted On Corrections And Edits, He Was His Own Harshest Critic, But I've Come To Believe Errors, Especially Written Errors, Are Often The Only Markers Left By A Solitary Life: To Sacrifice Them Is To Lose The Angels Of Personality, The Riddle Of A Soul. In This Case A Very Old Soul. A Very Old Riddle.

Make No Mistake, Those Who Write Long Books Have Nothing To Say. Of Course Those Who Write Short Books Have Even Less To Say.