Life is always going to be stranger than fiction, because fiction has to be convincing, and life doesn't.

Words can wound, and wounds can heal.

Doing fine, thank you, I would say, never knowing how to talk about what I do. If I could talk about it, I would not have to do it. I make art, sometimes I make true art, and sometimes it fills the empty places in my heart. Some of them. Not all.

The boy had the towering arrogance only seen in the greatest of artists and all nine-year-old boys.

It's only a world, after all, and they're just sand grains in the desert, worlds.

We don't have a clue what's really going down, we just kid ourselves that we're in control of our lives while a paper's thickness away things that would drive us mad if we thought about them for too long play with us, and move us around from room to room, and put us away at night when they're tired, or bored.

There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.