Nothing Is More Frightening Than A Fear

My Grandmother Told Stories; She Was Very Good At That.

You Know A Great Many Things In Dreams, Often Despite The Evidence Of Your Eyes. You Just Know Them.

Blue As The Evening Sky, Blue As Cranesbill Flowers, Blue As The Lips Of Drowned Men And The Heart Of A Blaze Burning With Too Hot A Flame. Yes, Sometimes It Was Hot In This World, Too. Hot And Cold, Light And Dark, Terrible And Beautiful, It Was Everything All At Once. It Wasn't True That You Felt Nothing In The Land Of Death. You Felt And Heard And Smelled And Saw, But Your Heart Remained Strangely Calm, As If It Were Resting Before The Dance Began Again. Peace. Was That The Word?

Power. Intoxicating. Like A Fine Wine.

Didn't Books Say That Too: That There Is Always Price To Pay For Happiness?