I Will Draw You Back To Me.

Danger And Anger Are Everywhere. Love Is The Rarity, The Gem Buried In The Core Of The Mine, The Outpost Of God.

Madness. I Did Not Get Myself Born To Die. I Have Better Things To Do.

We Need The Expressive Arts, The Ancient Scribes, The Storytellers, The Priests.

No One More Cynical Than An Idealist.

I Held Out My Book. It Was Precious To Me, As Were All The Things I'd Written; Even Where I Despised Their Inadequacy There Was Not One I Would Disown. Each Tore Its Way From My Entrails. Each Had Shortened My Life, Killed Me With Its Own Special Little Death.