Journey To The End Of

You’ve Always Got Me” “always?” “didn’t I Just Say So?” “yes” “am I Liar? “ “no.” I Lied.

Richard Christian Matheson Is A Master Of Compression. He Knows How To Catch A Moment In Words And Convey It Straight To The Reader's Heart.

The Whole Point About Vision Is That It's Very Individual, It's Very Personal, And It Has To Be Confessional. It Has To Be Something Which Hurts - The Pulling Out Of It And Putting It On The Page Hurts. Art Can Be About The Individual Writer's Response To His Or Her Condition, And If That Response Comes Out Of A Predigested Belief About What The Audience Wants To Hear About The Writer's Condition, Then It Has No Truth, It Has No Validity. You Either Write With Your Own Blood Or Nobody's. Otherwise It's Just Ink.

And In Time It Will Be As Though Men Had Never Come To This Perfect Corner Of The World-never Called It Paradise On Earth, Never Despoiled It With Their Dream Factories; And In The Golden Hush Of The Afternoon All That Will Be Heard Will Be The Flittering Of Dragonflies, And The Murmur Of Hummingbirds As They Pass From Bower To Bower, Looking For A Place To Sup Sweetness.

Books Should Make Somebody Look At How They Feel, Be Honest With Themselves.