Misdirection Is One Of My Strengths.

Taking His Time, As Though He Has All Of It In The World, In The Universe, From The Days When Tales Meant More Than They Do Now, But Perhaps Less Than They Will Someday, He Draws A Breath That Releases The Tangled Knot Of Words In His Heart, And They Fall From His Lips Effortlessly. "the Circus Arrives Without Warning.

I Like To Call It Nighttime Brain: The Way Your Mind Seems To Function On A Different Frequency Than It Does During Daylight Hours - Which Can Be Good Or Bad But Also Can Lead To Unexpected Epiphanies Or Experiences That Wouldn't Be The Same At Any Other Time Of Day.

Wine Is Bottled Poetry, He Thinks.

The Boy Spends Most Of His Time Reading. And Writing, Of Course. He Copies Out Sections Of Books, Writes Out Words And Symbols He Does Not Understand At First But That Become Intimately Familiar Beneath His Ink-stained Fingers, Formed Again And Again In Increasingly Steady Lines.

If She Were Gone I Would Be Nothing. You Should Think Better Of Yourself Than To Settle For That.