We All Flee In Hope Of Finding

I Eat Broccoli. I Think About The Plot. I Pace In Circles For Hours, Counter-clockwise, Listening To Music. I Try To Think Of One Detail In The Scene I'm About To Write That I'm Really Excited About Writing. Until I Can Come Up With That One Detail, I Pace.

There's An Ancient Saying In Japan, That Life Is Like Walking From One Side Of Infinite Darkness To Another, On A Bridge Of Dreams. They Say That We're All Crossing The Bridge Of Dreams Together. That There's Nothing More Than That. Just Us, On The Bridge Of Dreams.

Its A Very 18th-century Thing To Have A Book Broken Into Several Volumes.

I Could See My Face, Crying, In Her Blank Eye.

A Library Is An Adjustable Wrench For Opening The Head.