Goodnight Sweet Prince, May Flights Of Devils

All The Stories I Have Told You Are Finally As Useless As All Ancient Knowledge Is To Man And To Us. Its Images And Its Poetry Can Be Beautiful; It Can Make Us Shiver With The Recognition Of Things We Have Always Suspected Or Felt. It Can Draw Us Back To Times When The Earth Was New To Man, And Wondrous. But Always We Come Back To The Way The Earth Is Now.

I Didn’t Look To The Shore Much After This First Long And Memorable Glimpse. I Looked Up At Heaven And Her Court Of Mythical Creatures Fixed Forever In The All Powerful And Inscrutable Stars. Ink Black Was The Night Beyond Them, And They So Like Jewels That Old Poetry Came Back To Me, The Sound Even Of Hymns Sung Only By Men.

... What I Fear In Writing Is The Safe Decision.

Words Are Like Gems To Me... Imagine Yourself Walking Through A Very Shallow Stream And Picking Up Beautiful Stones That Catch Your Eye... That's What Names Are Like For Me.

What Is Written Beneath This Heavy Handsome Book Cover Will Count, So Sayeth This Cover.