Good Fiction Is Made Of

The Thing To Do Is To Exploit The Meaning Of The Life You Have.

I Suddenly Recall The Arpeggios Of Laughter Lilting Across The Tender, Springtime Grass-gay-welling, Far-floating, Fluent, Spontaneous, A Bell-like Feminine Fluting, Then Suppressed; As Though Snuffed Swiftly And Irrevocably Beneath The Quiet Solemnity Of The Vespered Air Now Vibrant With Somber Chapel Bells.

To Hell With Being Ashamed Of What You Liked.

The Truth Is The Light And The Light Is The Truth.

Whence All This Passion Toward Conformity Anyway? – Diversity Is The Word. Let Man Keep His Many Parts And You'll Have No Tyrant States . Why, If They Follow This Conformity Business They'll End Up By Forcing Me, An Invisible Man, To Become White, Which Is Not A Color But The Lack Of One. Must I Strive Toward Colorlessness? But Seriously, And Without Snobbery, Think Of What The World Would Lose If That Should Happen. America Is Woven Of Many Strands. I Would Recognize Them And Let It So Remain.