We Read Books To Find Out Who

I Had Forgotten How Much Light There Is In The World, Till You Gave It Back To Me.

Sometimes You Must Go Against The Wheel's Turn.

There Is A Limited Number Of Plots. There Is No Limit To The Number Of Stories.

What Good Is Music? None ... And That Is The Point. To The World And Its States And Armies And Factories And Leaders, Music Says, 'you Are Irrelevant'; And, Arrogant And Gentle As A God, To The Suffering Man It Says Only, 'listen.' For Being Saved Is Not The Point. Music Saves Nothing. Merciful, Uncaring, It Denies And Breaks Down All The Shelters, The Houses Men Build For Themselves, That They May See The Sky.

Do You Know How To Read?" "no. It Is One Of The Black Arts." He Nodded. "but A Useful One," He Said.