We Should Have Just Killed Him, That's

A Sense Of Wrongness, Of Fraught Unease, As If Long Nails Scraped The Surface Of The Moon, Raising The Hackles Of The Soul.

Word Spread Because Word Will Spread. Stories And Secrets Fight, Stories Win, Shed New Secrets, Which New Stories Fight, And On.

When I'm Writing A Book, Generally I Start With The Mood And Setting, Along With A Couple Of Specific Images—things That Have Come Into My Head, Totally Abstracted From Any Narrative, That I've Fixated On. After That, I Construct A World, Or An Area, Into Which That General Setting, That Atmosphere, And The Specific Images I've Focused On Can Fit.

People Have Wanted To Narrate Since First We Banged Rocks Together & Wondered About Fire. There’ll Be Tellings As Long As There Are Any Of Us Here, Until The Stars Disappear One By One Like Turned-out Lights.

A Scholar Can Never Let Mere Wrongness Get In The Way Of The Theory.