There Is No Limit To Desire But

The True Artist Plays Mad With His Soul, Labors At The Very Lip Of The Volcano, But Remembers And Clings To His Purpose, Which Is As Strong As The Dream. He Is Not Someone Possessed, Like Cassandra, But A Passionate, Easily Tempted Explorer Who Fully Intends To Get Home Again, Like Odysseus.

I Know Everything, You See,' The Old Voice Wheedled. 'the Beginning, The Present, The End. Everything. You Now, You See The Past And The Present, Like Other Low Creatures: No Higher Faculties Than Memory And Perception. But Dragons, My Boy, Have A Whole Different Kind Of Mind.' He Stretched His Mouth In A Kind Of Smile, No Trace Of Pleasure In It. 'we Are From The Mountaintop: All Time, All Space. We See In One Instant The Passionate Vision And The Blowout.

Fiction Does Not Spring Into The World Fully Grown, Like Athena. It Is The Process Of Writing And Rewriting That Makes A Fiction Original, If Not Profound.

Find A Pile Of Gold And Sit On It.

It Would Be, For Me, Mere Pointless Pleasure, An Illusion Of Order For This One Frail, Foolish, Flicker-flash In The Long Dull Fall Of Eternity.