Love of love written by the broken hearted, love of life written by the dead.
It is hungry, it it immortal. Worse, it knows nothing of whim.
At the heart of any terror is the fear of losing what we find meaningful.
I'm all soils west when the Earth lets go. I'm a thousand Julys.
Her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground.
House of Leaves is certainly about the unsettling nature of fear - and it was my aim to address that - but its also about recovering from fear.