why did I have to keep learning this same thing over and over?

I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too.

If we were to judge nature by common sense or likelihood, we wouldn't believe the world existed.

It could be that our faithlessness is a cowering cowardice born of our very smallness, a massive failure of imagination... If we were to judge nature by common sense or likelihood, we wouldnt believe the world existed.

The novel is a game or joke shared between author and reader.

The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest.

It should surprise no one that the life of the writer - such as it is - is colorless to the point of sensory deprivation. Many writers do little else but sit in small rooms recalling the real world.