I Like The Idea Of Trying To

I Couldn't Tell If I Was Perspicacious Or Paranoid.

For Every Action, There's An Infinity Of Outcomes. Countless Trillions Are Possible, Many Milliards Are Likely, Millions Might Be Considered Probable, Several Occur As Possibilities To Us As Observers - And One Comes True.

Any Moment Called Now Is Always Full Of Possibles.

People Have Wanted To Narrate Since First We Banged Rocks Together & Wondered About Fire. There’ll Be Tellings As Long As There Are Any Of Us Here, Until The Stars Disappear One By One Like Turned-out Lights.

I Think There's Something Quite Interesting About The Almost Tragic Quality Of A Lot Of Overwrought Prose, Because It Has A Much More Self-conscious Awareness Of Its Own Failure To Touch The Real.