Each Man Dreams His Own Heaven.

You Can't Prove That Something Doesn't Exist. You Can Only Prove That Something Does Exist.

She Was Plump, With Dyed Red Hair And A Face So Caked With Cosmetics That The Floor Of The Amazon Jungle Probably Saw More Natural Light.

I Thought It Was Her Wicked Stepmother Who Poisoned Her...' '...turned Out The Wicked Stepmother Had An Alibi.' '...seems She Was Off Poisoning Someone Else At The Time. Chance In A Million, Really. It Was Just Bad Luck.

Without A Human Voice To Read Them Aloud, Or A Pair Of Wide Eyes Following Them By Flashlight Beneath A Blanket, They Had No Real Existence In Our World. They Were Like Seeds In The Beak Of A Bird, Waiting To Fall To Earth, Or The Notes Of A Song Laid Out On A Sheet, Yearning For An Instrument To Bring Their Music Into Being.

. . . For A Lifetime Was But A Moment In That Place, And Each Man Dreams His Own Heaven. And In The Darkness David Closed His Eyes, As All That Was Lost Was Found Again.