It's Funny How Close The Past Is,

Part Of My Function As A Writer Is To Dream Awake. And That Usually Happens. If I Sit Down To Write In The Morning, In The Beginning Of That Writing Session And The Ending Of That Session, I'm Aware That I'm Writing. I'm Aware Of My Surroundings. It's Like Shallow Sleep On Both Ends, When You Go To Bed And When You Wake Up. But In The Middle, The World Is Gone And I'm Able To See Better.

It Was The Kiss By Which All The Others Of His Life Would Be Judged And Found Wanting.

Few If Any Seemed To Have Grasped The Principle Of Reality; New Knowledge Leads Always To Yet More Awesome Mysteries. Greater Physiological Knowledge Of The Brain Makes The Existence Of The Soul Less Possible Yet More Probable By The Nature Of The Search.

Rage-the Biggest, Truest Rage Of Her Adult Life-had Invaded Her Like A Fever, But It Wasn't Like Any Fever She Had Known Previously. It Circulated Like Weird Serum, Cold On The Right Side Of Her Body, Then Hot On The Left, Where Her Heart Was. It Seemed To Come Nowhere Near Her Head, Which Remained Clear.

What I Tell Kids Is Don't Get Mad (about Censorship) Get Even. Run, Don't Walk, To The First Library You Can Find, And Read What They're Trying To Keep Out Of Your Eyes. Read What They're Trying To Keep Out Of Your Brains. Because That's Exactly What You Need To Know.