Has It Ever Occurred To You That

In The Stutter-flashes Of Light, The Clouds Look Like Huge Transparent Brains Filled With Bad Thoughts.

The World Was The Overlook Hotel, Where The Party Never Ended. Where The Dead Were Alive Forever.

Not Writing Would Be Like Going The Rest Of Your Life Without Having Dreams.

I Was In Enough To Get Along With People. I Was Never Socially Inarticulate. Not A Loner. And That Saved My Life, Saved My Sanity. That And The Writing. But To This Day I Distrust Anybody Who Thought School Was A Good Time. Anybody.

In These Silences Something May Rise