They Say In Every Library

A Mystery Is Solved With A Story.

It Is Not The Diamonds Or The Birds, The People Or The Potatoes, It Is Not Any Of The Nouns. The Miracle Is The Adverbs, The Way Things Are Done. It Is The Way Love Gets Done Despite Every Catastrophe.

The Basic Eight And Watch Your Mouth Both Have First-person Voices, And I Ended Up Investigating Those Voices And Investing So Much In Them That I Think Many People Took Them More Seriously Than They Ought To Have.

I’m Not A Romantic, I’m A Half-wit. Only Stupid People Would Think I’m Smart. I’m Not Something Anyone Should Know. I’m A Lunatic Wandering Around For Scraps, I’m Like Every Single Miserable Moron I’ve Scorned And Pretended I Didn’t Recognize. I’m All Of Them, Every Last Ugly Thing In A Bad Last-minute Costume. I’m Not Different, Not At All, Not Different From Any Other Speck Of A Thing. I’m A Blemished Blemish, A Ruined Ruin, A Stained Wreck So Failed I Can’t See What I Used To Be.

Fetching Objects For People Who Are Too Lazy To Fetch Them For Themselves Is Never A Pleasant Task, Particularly When The People Are Insulting You.