If death itself were to die, would it have a ghost, and would the ghost of death visit the dead in the guise of someone alive, if only to fright them from any temptation to return?
What one wants to do with stories is screw them up.
I am unlikely to trust a sentence that comes easily.
If there were genders to genres, fiction would be unquestionably feminine.
Words are the supreme objects. They are minded things.
Of course there is enough to stir our wonder anywhere; there's enough to love, anywhere, if one is strong enough, if one is diligent enough, if one is perceptive, patient, kind enough -- whatever it takes.