He Found Himself Still With Too Many

He Sat Upon His Throne, Which Is Made Of Skulls.

You Know," King Said, "i'm Not Much Good At Telling Stories. That Sounds Like A Paradox, But It's Not; It's The Reason I Write Them Down.

Outside, Daylight Was Bleeding Slowly Toward Dusk.

Sometimes The Things Presented To Us As Choices Aren't Choices At All.

Your Job Isn't To Find These Ideas But To Recognize Them When They Show Up.