The Law Is Simple. Every

Yes, The Highest Things Are Beyond Words. That Is Probably Why All Art Aspires To The Condition Of Wordlessness. When Literature Works On You, It Does So In Silence, In Your Dreams, In Your Wordless Moments. Good Words Enter You And Become Moods, Become The Quiet Fabric Of Your Being. Like Music, Like Painting, Literature Too Wants To Transcend Its Primary Condition And Become Something Higher. Art Wants To Move Into Silence, Into The Emotional And Spiritual Conditions Of The World. Statues Become Melodies, Melodies Become Yearnings, Yearnings Become Actions.

We Plan Our Lives According To A Dream That Came To Us In Our Childhood, And We Find That Life Alters Our Plans. And Yet, At The End, From A Rare Height, We Also See That Our Dream Was Our Fate. It's Just That Providence Had Other Ideas As To How We Would Get There. Destiny Plans A Different Route, Or Turns The Dream Around, As If It Were A Riddle, And Fulfills The Dream In Ways We Couldn't Have Expected.

To Poison A Nation, Poison Its Stories. A Demoralised Nation Tells Demoralised Stories To Itself. Beware Of The Storytellers Who Are Not Fully Conscious Of The Importance Of Their Gifts, And Who Are Irresponsible In The Application Of Their Art: They

An Inner Darkness Is Darker Than An Outer Darkness.

We Have Fallen Into This Very Mean Description Of Humanity. Naturalism In Fiction Is Too Reductive In Its Definition Of Human Beings.