I Decided That It Was

Thank You, Sir, But I Am Perfectly Content Being The Bride Of Death.

I Like My Zombies Slow And I Like My Zombies Stupid.

There Are So Many Stories To Tell In The Worlds Of Science Fiction, The Worlds Of Fantasy And Horror That To Confine Yourself To Even Doing Historical Revisionist Fiction, Whatever You Want To Call It - Mash-ups, Gimmick Lit, Absurdist Fiction - I Don't Know If I Want To Do That Anymore.

I Wrote One Terrible Manuscript After Another For A Decade And I Guess They Gradually Got A Little Less Terrible. But There Were Many, Many Unpublished Short Stories, Abandoned Screenplays And Novels... A Library Of Congress Worth Of Awful Literature.

‎and When This Intoxication Has Worn Away... When Every Desire Is Fulfilled And Every Language Learned- When There Are No More Distant Cities To Explore; No Classics To Be Studied; Not Another Coin To Be Stuffed In To One's Coffers- What Then? One Can Have All The Comforts Of The World, But What Use Are They If There Is No Comfort In Them?