In the dark attics of our minds, all times mingle.

You can't stand up to the night until you understand what's hiding in its shadows.

The past scampers like an alley cat through the present, leaving the paw prints of memories scattered helter-skelter.

You wouldn't want any creative process to lose its sense of fun and adventure, but that doesn't mean you can't take it seriously as well.

Why did men worship in churches, locking themselves away in the dark, when the world lay beyond its doors in all its real glory?

Inside us lies every possibility that is available to a sentient being. Every darkness, every light. It is the choices we make that decide who or what we will be.

The thing to remember when you're writing is, it's not whether or not what you put on paper is true. It's whether it wakes a truth in your reader.