When They're Gone Out Of His Head,

He Has To Find More And Better Ways Of Occupying His Time. His Time, What A Bankrupt Idea, As If He's Been Given A Box Of Time Belonging To Him Alone, Stuffed To The Brim With Hours And Minutes That He Can Spend Like Money. Trouble Is, The Box Has Holes In It And The Time Is Running Out, No Matter What He Does With It.

An Eye For An Eye Only Leads To More Blindness.

Literature Is Not Only A Mirror; It Is A Map, A Geography Of The Mind.

I Suppose These Deadlines We Set For Ourselves Are Really A Way Of Saying We Appreciate Time, And Want To Use All Of It.

You're Dead, Cordelia.' No I'm Not. 'yes You Are. You're Dead. Lie Down.