A Soul Of Water A

Zombies Are The Liberal Nightmare. Here You Have The Masses, Whom You Would Love To Love, Appearing At Your Front Door With Their Faces Falling Off; And You're Trying To Be As Humane As You Possibly Can, But They Are, After All, Eating The Cat. And The Fear Of Mass Activity, Of Mindlessness On A National Scale, Underlies My Fear Of Zombies.

There Is No Such Thing As Originality. It Has All Been Said Before, Suffered Before. If A Person Knows That, Is It Any Wonder Love Becomes Mechanical And Death Just A Scene To Be Shunned? There Is No Absolute Knowledge To Be Gained From Either. Just Another Ride On The Merry-go-round, Another Blurred Scene Of Faces Smiling And Faces Grieved.

I Love Meeting People Who've Read My Books. The Prime Reason To Be On The Planet Is To Make Things I Can Show To Other People: Paintings, Books, Movies.

I Am A Man, And Men Are Animals Who Tell Stories. This Is A Gift From God, Who Spoke Our Species Into Being, But Left The End Of Our Story Untold. That Mystery Is Troubling To Us. How Could It Be Otherwise? Without The Final Part, We Think, How Are We To Make Sense Of All That Went Before: Which Is To Say, Our Lives? So We Make Stories Of Our Own, In Fevered And Envious Imitation Of Our Maker, Hoping That We'll Tell, By Chance, What God Left Untold. And Finishing Our Tale, Come To Understand Why We Were Born.

True Joy Is A Profound Remembering; And True Grief The Same.