Midian Is Where The Monsters

Why'd You Want To Sing About Sad Things?" Candy Had Asked Him. "because Any Fool Can Be Happy," He'd Said To Her. "it Takes A Man With Real Heart" —he'd Made A Fist And Laid It Against His Chest— "to Make Beauty Out Of The Stuff That Makes Us Weep.

You Just Have To Trust Your Own Madness.

Well, It Was Most Likely Too Late; There Would Not Be Time For Me To Flagellate Myself For Every Dishonorable Deed In That List, Nor Any Chance To Make Good The Harms I’d Done. Minor Harms, To Be Sure, In The Scheme Of Things; But Large Enough To Regret.

Did I Say That She Was Beautiful? I Was Wrong. Beauty Is Too Tame A Notion; It Evokes Only Faces In Magazines. A Lovely Eloquence, A Calming Symmetry; None Of That Describes This Woman’s Face. So Perhaps I Should Assume I Cannot Do It Justice With Words. Suffice It To Say That It Would Break Your Heart To See Her; And It Would Mend What Was Broken In The Same Moment; And You Would Be Twice What You’d Been Before.

Richard Christian Matheson Is A Master Of Compression. He Knows How To Catch A Moment In Words And Convey It Straight To The Reader's Heart.