We all have our dreams. May we find them, and God have mercy on us when we do.

What is any of this to us? Time is endless and ours. Love and Death are only the games we play in it.

Hope is a punishable offense. The verdict is always death; one more death of the heart.

If they had said my writing wasn't good enough, fair enough, that's an opinion. But to say it's too complex is to insult the intelligence of the so-called young.

I love writers all across the board, but one who influenced me very directly at the beginning was Mary Renault.

The soul is a magician. Only living flesh hampers it.

The humble were the elect of God. Did not the priests teach so, in their gemmed, kingly robes, from their towering pulpits?