We Call Them Faerie. We Don't Believe

Everything Has A Spirit And It's All Connected. If You Think About That, If You Live Your Life By It, Then You're Less Likely To Cause Any Hurt. It's Like How Our Bodies Go Back Into The Ground When We Die, So That Connects Us To The Earth. If You Dump Trash, You're Dumping It On Your And My Ancestors. Or To Bring It Down To Its Simplest Level: Treat Everything And Everybody The Way You Want To Be Treated, Because When You Hurt Someone, You're Only Hurting Yourself.

Lies Were Like Having A Pregnant Rabbit. One Day You Had One, But Before You Knew It, There Were Rabbits All Over The Place.

There Isn't A Single Day I Don't Do Some Writing -- If You Don't, You Won't Have A Book. When You're Self-employed It Is Very Easy To Burn Away Your Time Instead -- Answering E-mails, Surfing The Internet, Or Hanging Out With Friends. You Really Must Have The Discipline To Sit Down And Write Every Day. Most Of What I Am Writing Is Living In The Back Of My Head Or In My Subconscious. I Find If I Write Every Day, My Subconscious Will Do The Job For Me.

I Always Feel That There Is A Curtain, You Know, That If I Could Just Peek Behind The Curtain I'd See How The World Really Works. And Since I Haven't Had It I Have To Write About It Instead.

I Envy The Music Lovers Hear. I See Them Walking Hand In Hand, Standing Close To Each Other In A Queue At A Theater Or Subway Station, Heads Touching While They Sit On A Park Bench, And I Ache To Hear The Song That Plays Between Them: The Stirring Chords Of Romance's First Bloom, The Stately Airs That Whisper Between A Couple Long In Love. You Can See It In The Way They Look At Each Other... You Can Almost Hear It. Almost, But Not Quite, Because The Music Belongs To Them And All You Can Have Of It Is A Vague Echo That Rises Up From The Bittersweet Murmur And Shuffle Of Your Own Memories.