At the heart of any terror is the fear of losing what we find meaningful.

This great blue world of ours is but a house of leaves, moments before the wind.

What miracle is this? This giant tree. It stands ten thousand feet high But doesn't reach the ground. Still it stands. Its roots must hold the sky.

Have no fear, you will find your way. It's in your bones. It's in your soul.

Keep true to the rare music in your heart, to the marvelous and unique form that is and shall always be nothing else but you. Keep to that and you can do no wrong, which I realize is easier said than done.

I believe the structure of 'House of Leaves' is far more difficult to explain than it is to read. And while I'd like to lay claim to some extraordinary act of originality, truth is I'm only taking advantage of capabilities inherent in everyone.

Prometheus, thief of light, giver of light, bound by the gods, must have been a book.