And in time it will be as though men had never come to this perfect corner of the world-never called it paradise on earth, never despoiled it with their dream factories; and in the golden hush of the afternoon all that will be heard will be the flittering of dragonflies, and the murmur of hummingbirds as they pass from bower to bower, looking for a place to sup sweetness.

My imagination is my polestar; I steer by that.

You just have to trust your own madness.

The great grey beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive.

Fear is a place where you just tell the truth

To call you excrement would be an insult to the product of my bowels.

Welcome to the worst nightmare of all, reality!