For Always In Her There Was A

And Books, They Offer One Hope -- That A Whole Universe Might Open Up From Between The Covers, And Falling Into That Universe, One Is Saved.

Who Knew That Better Than I, Who Had Presided Over The Death Of My Own Body, Seeing All I Called Human Wither And Die Only To Form An Unbreakable Chain Which Held Me Fast To This World Yet Made Me Forever Its Exile, A Specter With A Beating Heart?

The Only Power That Exists Is Inside Ourselves.

Perhaps This Is The Only Real Evil Left.

I Loved Words. I Love To Sing Them And Speak Them And Even Now, I Must Admit, I Have Fallen Into The Joy Of Writing Them.