Fantasy Is Literature For Teenagers.

The Day Of The Android Has Dawned.

A Writer Should Say To Himself, Not, How Can I Get More Money?, But How Can I Reach More Readers (without Lowering Standards)?

Its At Night, When Perhaps We Should Be Dreaming, That The Mind Is Most Clear, That We Are Most Able To Hold All Our Life In The Palm Of Our Skull. I Dont Know If Anyone Has Ever Pointed Out That Great Attraction Of Insomnia Before, But It Is So; The Night Seems To Release A Little More Of Our Vast Backward Inheritance Of Instincts And Feelings; As With The Dawn, A Little Honey Is Allowed To Ooze Between The Lips Of The Sandwich, A Little Of The Stuff Of Dreams To Drip Into The Waking Mind.

The Prose Poem Walk The Red Road Is Great Stuff And Deserves To Be Read Aloud. It Compares Quite Favorably To The Walls Of Emerald By Li Chiang Yen, A Chinese Poet Of The Late Tang Period.

When Childhood Dies, Its Corpses Are Called Adults.