I will draw you back to me. You shall see. By a chain of stars.

She could not mourn. She could no longer weep grasping the essence of annihilation, she wished only to cease, to be no more, as if sunk in some profound sleep devoid of wakening.

I think of myself as a storyteller, and that is it.

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

I began to feel lighthearted. Don't ever do that; it tempts some dark and evil force abroad in the universe.

No one is ever ordinary.

I submitted manuscripts to publishers. This was not so much a feeling that I should be published as a wish to escape the feared and hated drudgery of normal work.