Because people would have to remember books, if other people burn them or forget them. We will commit them to memory. We will become them. We become authors. We become their books.
I borrowed a copy of by Roger Lancelyn Green and read and reread it with delight and puzzlement: Asgard, in this telling, was no longer a Kirbyesque Future City but was a Viking hall and collection o...
Sister Mary chose that moment to come in with the tea. Satanist or not, she'd also found a plate and arranged some iced biscuits on it.
Ideas are more difficult to kill than people, but they can be killed, in the end.
It's not hard to own something. Or everything. You just have to know that it's yours, and then be willing to let it go.
But time heals. Or at least it forms scabs.
Can't say I've ever been too fond of beginnings, myself. Messy little things. Give me a good ending anytime. You know where you are with an ending.
Forgetfulness can sometimes bring freedom of a sort
It is sometimes a mistake to climb. It is always a mistake to never make the attempt.
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 com...
If Hell is other people... then Purgatory is airports.
In the manner of one recognizing a line from a familiar poem in a strange book.
Death has a body like a model, the clothes of a poet and the smile of your best friend. She wears a top hat for fun, her ankh necklace for power, and carries a big black umbrella for travelling to the...
I'm bored, she said.Learn how to tap-dance, he suggested, without turning around.
Even in dreams and in death, a monk and a fox are from different worlds, as they were in life, and in different worlds they will forever stay
It begins, as most things begin, with a song. In the beginning, after all, were the words, and they came with a tune. That was how the world was made, how the void was divided, how the lands and the s...
None of this can actually be happening. If it makes you more comfortable, you could simply think of it as metaphor. Religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all: God is a dream a hope, a woman,...
Walk any path in Destiny's garden, and you will be forced to choose, not once but many times.
That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.
Gods die. And when they truly die they are unmourned and unremembered. Ideas are more difficult to kill than people, but they can be killed, in the end.
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