Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask.

Consciousness, unprovable by scientific standards, is forever, then, the impossible phantom in the predictable biologic machine, and your every thought a genuine supernatural event. Your every thought is a ghost, dancing.

It doesn't do you any service to demonize any group of people. It's much better to try and understand from the inside.

There is no substitute for practical experience, and if you want to write about people you ought to put down that comic book and go out and meet some of them rather than studying the way that Stan Lee or Chris Claremont depict people.

I live my life free of compromise, and step into the shadows without complaint or regret.

For whatever the future holds, one thing is certain... It just won't be the same.

I am but a stranger ... as we all are. Lonely inside our separate skins, we cannot know each others pain and must bear our own in solitude. For my part, I have found that walking soothes it; and that, given luck, sometimes we find one to walk besides us ... at least for a little way.