We Read Five Words On The First

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.

The Primary Subject Of Fiction Is And Has Always Been Human Emotion, Values, And Beliefs.

I Couldn't Go On, Too Conscious All At Once Of My Whispering, My Eternal Posturing, Always Transforming The World With Words--changing Nothing.

As A Rule Of Thumb I Say, If Socrates, Jesus And Tolstoy Wouldn't Do It, Don't.

There Is No Limit To Desire But Desire's Needs.