And While The Ice Was Melting To

All Novels Are About Certain Minorities: The Individual Is A Minority.

When I Discover Who I Am, I'll Be Free.

I Am Invisible, Understand, Simply Because People Refuse To See Me.

I Was Never More Hated Than When I Tried To Be Honest. Or When, Even As Just Now I've Tried To Articulate Exactly What I Felt To Be The Truth. No One Was Satisfied

But What A Feeling Can Come Over A Man Just From Seeing The Things He Believes In And Hopes For Symbolized In The Concrete Form Of A Man. In Something That Gives A Focus To All The Other Things He Knows To Be Real. Something That Makes Unseen Things Manifest And Allows Him To Come To His Hopes And Dreams Through His Outer Eye And Through The Touch And Feel Of His Natural Hand.