Genre Categories Are Irrelevant. I

Ecstasy And Vulnerability Belonged In The Same Dish. The Fear The Cup Would Be Snatched Away Was What Gave The Wine Its Savor.

Men Are Not The Causers Of History. History Itself, By A Pressure Of Events, Causes Men To Resort To Particular Actions.

He Sat By Her, Watching Every Gesture She Made, As If He Would Paint Her Portrait Afterward.

There Was No Violence, No Speed. It Moved To The Rhythm Of An Elder Dance, Putting All The Rituals Of The World To Shame. Black, Silver, Gold And Moon-opal, Night And Sea, Fire, Earth, Air And Water.

I Tend Not To Analyse My Work, Though I'm Frequently Intrigued When Other People Take Time To Do So.