To Restore Silence Is The Role Of

Nothing Matters But The Writing. There Has Been Nothing Else Worthwhile... A Stain Upon The Silence.

Imagination At Wit's End Spreads Its Sad Wings.

I Try. I Fail. I Try Again. I Fail Better.

Personally I Have No Bone To Pick With Graveyards, I Take The Air There Willingly, Perhaps More Willingly Than Elsewhere, When Take The Air I Must.

The End Is In The Beginning And Yet You Go On.