Hope Is The Forward-looking Part Of Memory.

This Is The Mythosphere. It's Made Up Of All The Stories, Theories And Beliefs, Legends, Myths And Hopes, That Are Generated Here On Earth. As You Can See, It's Constantly Growing And Moving As People Invent New Tales To Tell Or Find New Things To Believe. The Older Strands Move Out To Become These Spirals, Where Things Tend To Become Quite Crude And Dangerous. They've Hardened Off, You See.

And It's A Pity Too That I've No Right To Open Your Letters. I Hope You Don't Get Many, Or My Conscience Will Give Me No Peace.

Fantasy For Me As A Kid Was Real, And I Had A Fantasy About What Life Was, Whether It Was Sort Of Wicked And Dire, Or Wholly Normal, Or Whatever. Anything Really Close To Home Is Not, It Seems To Me, What A Good Book Should Be About.

Controller Borasus Sighed With Relief. Libraries Were Not Places Of Danger. It Had To Be A Hoax.

It Does Not Seem To Me That I Have The Right To Foist A Story On People, Most Of Whom Are Children Who Should Be Learning All The Time, Unless I Am Learning From It Too.