It is not that I was credulous, simply that I belived in all things dark and dangerous. It was part of my young creed that the night was full of ghosts and witches, hungry and flapping and dressed completely in black.

Even if your goose habitually lays golden eggs, it will still be cooked.

I watch with envious eyes and mind, the single-souled who dare not feel The wind that blows beyond the moon, who do not hear the fairy reel

The thin girl was gulping down one of Richard's bananas in what was, Richard reflected, the least erotic display of banana-eating he had ever seen.

This was the void. Not blackness, not nothingness. This was what lay beneath the thinly painted scrim of reality.

We wrapped our dreams in words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable.

Are we human because we gaze at the stars or do we gaze at the stars because we are human?