We burn so hard, but we shed so little light; it makes us crazy and sad.
Who can call a man dead whose words still hush and whose sentiments move?
The question that lay before me, and I had so far failed to answer, was the way these connections might best be expressed. My mind was filled with possibilities but I had no real sense of how all that I knew was arrayed and dispersed; no sense of the pattern.
Why? What is his intention? Have you at least discovered that?
That which is imagined need never be lost.
There are lives lived for love, and lives lived for art. We, happy band, have chosen the later persuasion.
Make a fist. Lightly. Leave enough room for a breath to pass through. Good. Good. All magic proceeds from breath. Remember that.
Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any other story springs
Superman is, after all, an alien life form. He is simply the acceptable face of invading realities.
Her mother had always said that women, being more at peace with themselves than men, needed fewer distractions from their hurts.