The ending is nearer than you think, and it is already written. All that we have left to choose is the correct moment to begin.

I'm the king of the 20th century. I'm the boogeyman, the villian, the black sheep of the family.

I am watching the stars, admiring their complex trajectories through space and time. I am trying to give a name to the force that set them in motion.

Perhaps this is the purpose of all art, all writing, on the murders, fiction and non-fiction: Simply to participate.

Here's the thing: If you're monitoring every single thing that goes on in a given culture, if you have all the information that is there to be had, then that is the equivalent of having none of it. How are you going to process that amount of information?

Roses are red Violets are blue Everything's possible Nothing is true.

I'm the idea of the human imagination, which, when you think about it, is the only thing we can really be certain ISN'T imaginary.