I Have The Heart Of A Child.

I Think Perhaps All Of Us Go A Little Crazy At Times.

People Hear That I Am A Horror Writer And They Think That I Must Be A Monster, But Actually I Have The Heart Of A Small Child - I Keep It In A Jar On My Desk.

Henderson Sighed. There Was A Time, He Reflected, When The Coming Of This Night Meant Something. A Dark Europe, Groaning In Superstitious Fear, Dedicated This Eve To The Grinning Unknown. A Million Doors Had Once Been Barred Against The Evil Visitants, A Million Prayers Mumbled, A Million Candles Lit. There Was Something Majestic About The Idea, Henderson Reflected.

Funny How We Take It For Granted That We Know All There Is To Know About Another Person, Just Because We See Them Frequently Or Because Of Some Strong Emotional Tie.

That's The Way Girls Were--they Always Laughed. Because They Were Bitches.