Give Me A Man Or Woman Who

Roman Influence Seeds Itself, Sprouting Mighty Oaks Right Through The Modern Forest Of Computers, Digital Disks, Microviruses And Space Satellites.

Yes. To Write A Novel Is To Risk My Sanity. The Deeper I Get Into The Suffering And Conflict Of The Characters, Into The Very Situations And Thoughts And Feelings That Make The Novel Worthwhile, The Worse I Feel, And The More Likely I Am To Be Severely Depressed When The Book Is Finished. There Is No Avoiding This: It Is The Result Of Attempting To Tell All You Know, To Reach For The Stars, To Write What Matters.

I'm Hoping What All Sentient Beings Hope ... That Somehow I'm Part Of Something Larger Than Myself, In Which I Play A Role, An Actual Role That Is Somehow Intended And Meaningful.

I Find At Moments I'm As Fragile As Glass.

I Don't Believe In Hell. The Idea That A Supreme Being Would Make Hell Is Ridiculous. An Eternity Of Pain That Results In No Learning, Reformation Or Rebirth Is A Nauseating Idea. It's One Of The Reasons I Left Christianity. I Simply Could Not Accept That Version Of God.