Words Are Sexier Than Flesh.

Those Old Hypocrites. They Talk About Killing Witches But The Good Book’s Full Of Magic. Turning The Nile To Blood And Parting The Red Sea. What’s That If It’s Not Good Old-fashioned Magic? Want A Little Water Into Wine? No Trouble! How About Raising The Dead Man Lazarus? Just Say The Word!

Witch, Do This For Me, Find Me A Moon Made Of Longing. Then Cut It Sliver Thin, And Having Cut It, Hang It High Above My Beloved's House, So That She May Look Up Tonight And See It, And Seeing It, Sigh For Me As I Sigh For Her, Moon Or No Moon.

Always, Worlds Within Worlds.

What I Tried To Do Is Deliver Movies That Have Worked For Me More Than Once.

At Best You Can Hold Death At Bay, You Can Pretend It Isn't There; But To Deny It Totally Is A Sickness. And I Think That Horror Fiction Is One Of The Ways To Approach These Problems, And, Perversely Perhaps, To Enjoy A Vicarious Confrontation With Them.