His Name Is Legion. He Is The

Only Two Things Happen To Writers When They Die: Either Their Work Survives, Or It Becomes Forgotten.

My Friend Wants To Get Moving And So Do I,' Eddie Said. 'we've Got Miles To Go Yet.' I Know That. It's On Your Face, Son. Like A Scar.' Eddie Was Fascinated By The Idea Of Duty And Ka As Something That Left A Mark, Something That Might Look Like Decoration To One Eye And Disfigurement To Another. Outside, Thunder Cracked And Lightning Flashed.

If I Cannot Horrify, I'll Go For The Gross Out. I'm Not Proud.

Stories Are Artifacts, Not Really Made Things Which We Create And Can Take Credit For, But Pre-existing Objects Which We Dig Up.

When You Stack Up All The Years We Are Allowed Against All There Is To Read, Time Is Very Short Indeed.