Writers, Unlike Most People, Tell Their Best

Every Messiah Fails, The Moment He Tries To Redeem Himself.

Poor Little Librarians Of The World, Those Girls, Secretly Lovely, Their Looks Marred Forever By The Cruelty Of A Pair Of Big Dark Eyeglasses!

Childhood Is A Branch Of Cartography.

I Found One Remaining Box Of Comics Which I Had Saved. When I Opened It Up And That Smell Came Pouring Out, That Old Paper Smell, I Was Struck By A Rush Of Memories, A Sense Of My Childhood Self That Seemed To Be Contained In There.

No; He Could Be Ruined Again And Again By Hope, But He Would Never Be Capable Of Belief.