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Midnight, And The Clock Strikes. It Is Christmas Day, The Werewolves Birthday, The Door Of The Solstice Still Wide Enough Open To Let Them All Slink Through.

My Mother Learned That She Was Carrying Me At About The Same Time The Second World War Was Declared; With The Family Talent For Magic Realism, She Once Told Me She Had Been To The Doctor's On The Very Day.

There Is A Striking Resemblance Between The Act Of Love And The Ministrations Of A Torturer.

The Invisible Is Only Another Unexplored Country, A Brave New World.

Your Green Eye Is A Reducing Chamber. If I Look Into It Long Enough, I Wil Become As Small As My Own Reflection, I Will Diminish To A Point And Vanish. I Will Be Drawn Down Into That Black Whirlpool And Be Consumed By You. I Shall Become So Small You Can Keep Me In One Of Your Osier Cages And Mock My Loss Of Liberty.