And books, they offer one hope -- that a whole universe might open up from between the covers, and falling into that universe, one is saved.

And when a strong man is sweet, even Goddesses look down from Mount Olympus.

The thing should have plot and character, beginning, middle and end. Arouse pity and then have a catharsis. Those were the best principles I was ever taught.

And so this young one, this young one whom I had so loved, I had to forsake, no matter how broken my heart, no matter how lonely my soul, no matter how bruised my intellect and spirit.

Sweet to think on it, that when we are last weary of all this world there is the rising sun

I have to move away from organized religion. The toxic confusion and anger I was feeling in church had become too great.

From my stone pillow I have dreamed dreams of the mortal world above. I have heard its voices, its new music, as lullabies as I lie in my grave. I have envisioned its fantastical discoveries. I have known its courage in the timeless sanctum of my thoughts. And though it shuts me out with its dazzling forms, I long for one with the strength to roam it fearlessly, to ride the Devil's Road through its heart.