Give Me B Movies Or

Even Winter — The Hardest Season, The Most Implacable — Dreams, As February Creeps On, Of The Flame That Will Presently Melt It Away. Everything Tires With Time, And Starts To Seek Some Opposition, To Save It From Itself.

To Dream In Isolation Can Be Properly Splendid To Be Sure; But To Dream In Company Seems To Me Infinitely Preferable.

Nothing Ever Begins. There Is No First Moment; No Single Word Or Place From Which This Or Any Story Springs. The Threads Can Always Be Traced Back To Some Earlier Tale, And The Tales That Preceded That; Though As The Narrator's Voice Recedes The Connections Will Seem To Grow More Tenuous, For Each Age Will Want The Tale Told As If It Were Of Its Own Making.

I'm A Poet,' The Young Man Said, 'and It's My Job To Remember The Sadness Of Things.

Sooner Or Later Even The Most Ambitious Glutton Must Crawl Away And Seek The Solace Of The Vomitorium.