I Guess Satan Was The First Superhero

Her Sanity Was A Fragile Thing, A Butterfly Cupped In Her Hands, That She Carried With Her Everywhere, Afraid Of What Would Happen If She Let It Go-or Got Careless And Crushed It.

I Remind Myself That No One Day Of Writing Matters All That Much. A Story Is Built Somewhat Like A Stalactite - One Little Drip Of Mud And Grit At A Time.

You Think You Know Someone. But Mostly You Just Know What You Want To Know.

The Mad Sometimes Drilled Holes In Their Own Heads To Let The Demons Out. To Relieve The Pressure Of Thoughts They Could No Longer Bear. Jude Understood The Impulse. Each Beat Of His Heart Was A Fresh And Staggering Blow Felt In The Nerves Behind His Eyes And In His Temples. Punishing Evidence Of Life.

It Was Like Wondering How Evil Had Come Into The World Or What Happens To A Person After He Dies: An Interesting Philosophical Exercise, But Also Curiously Pointless, Since Evil And Death Happened, Regardless Of The Why And The How And What-it-meant.