Worse Than Madness. Sanity.

The Water Rose Further And Dressed Simon's Coarse Hair With Brightness. The Line Of His Cheek Silvered And The Turn Of His Shoulder Became Sculptured Marble.

I Am Not A Theologian Or A Philosopher. I Am A Story Teller.

You'll Get Back To Where You Came From.

I Believe Man Suffers From An Appalling Ignorance Of His Own Nature. I Produce My Own View In The Belief That It May Be Something Like The Truth.

Sleep Is When All The Unsorted Stuff Comes Flying Out As From A Dustbin Upset In A High Wind.