No Purer Artist Exists Or Has Ever

I Hear Seven Cities Natives Grow Fruit Just So They Can Eat The Larvae In Them.

Destiny Is A Lie. Destiny Is Justification For Atrocity. It Is The Means By Which Murderers Armour Themselves Against Reprimand. It Is A Word Intended To Stand In Place Of Ethics, Denying All Moral Context.

For We Are All Bound In Stories, And As The Years Pile Up They Turn To Stone, Layer Upon Layer, Building Our Lives.

The Idea That An Author Can Extricate Her Or His Own Ongoing Life Experience From The Tale Being Written Is A Conceit Of Very Little Worth.

Ben Adaephon Delat," Pearl Said Plaintively, "see The Last Who Comes. You Send Me To My Death." "i Know," Quick Ben Whispered. "flee, Then. I Will Hold Them Enough To Ensure Your Escape No More." Quick Ben Sank Down Past The Roof. Before He Passed From Sight Pearl Spoke Again. "ben Adaephon Delat, Do You Pity Me?" "yes" He Replied Softly, Then Pivoted And Dropped Down Into Darkness.