Ah, Genre. A Word Only A Frenchman

When I'm Writing I Don't Dream Much; It's Like The Dreaming Gets Used In The Writing.

Fire And Fear, Good Servants, Bad Lords.

The Bond Between True Lovers Is As Close As We Come To What Endures Forever.

The Future Has Become Uninhabitable. Such Hopelessness Can Arise, I Think, Only From An Inability To Face The Present, To Live In The Present, To Live As A Responsible Being Among Other Beings In This Sacred World Here And Now, Which Is All We Have, And All We Need, To Found Our Hope Upon.

What Is More Arrogant Than Honesty?