Shake Your Fist All You Want But

So You Say, With Your Shiny Hair And Pouty Lips - And Those Breasts - Just Wait Till You Start Dropping Whelps, They'll Be At Your Ankles One Day, Big As They Are - Not The Whelps, The Breasts. The Whelps Will Be In Your Hair - No, Not The Shiny Hair On Your Head, Well, Yes, That Hair, But Only As A Manner Of Speech.

The Stars, They Are As The Sun. Each Star. Every Star. And Those Spheres- They Are Worlds, Realms, Each One Different Yet The Same.

Believe It Or Not, Friendships Are Difficult To Write In Fiction. They Can Easily Come Across As Forced, Particularly If They Involve Too Much Explication And Too Many Overt Gestures Of Affection.

No Purer Artist Exists Or Has Ever Existed Than A Child Freed To Imagine.

And In The City On All Sides, The Howling Of The Hounds Rose In An Ear-shattering, Soul-flailing Crescendo. The Lord Of Death Had Arrived, To Walk The Streets In The City Of Blue Fire.