And My Father Always Took Me To

Everyone Is Small At Night.

Blue As The Evening Sky, Blue As Cranesbill Flowers, Blue As The Lips Of Drowned Men And The Heart Of A Blaze Burning With Too Hot A Flame. Yes, Sometimes It Was Hot In This World, Too. Hot And Cold, Light And Dark, Terrible And Beautiful, It Was Everything All At Once. It Wasn't True That You Felt Nothing In The Land Of Death. You Felt And Heard And Smelled And Saw, But Your Heart Remained Strangely Calm, As If It Were Resting Before The Dance Began Again. Peace. Was That The Word?

Sometimes, When You're So Sad You Don't Know What To Do, It Helps To Be Angry.

Nothing Chased Nightmares Away Faster Than The Rustle Of Printed Paper.

I Remember The Feeling. Whenever My Father Got So Absorbed In A Book That We Might Have Been In Visible I Felt Like Taking A Pair Of Scissors And Cutting It Up.