A restaurant is a fantasy-a kind of living fantasy in which diners are the most important members of the cast.

Right and wrong matters little when survival matters most.

If I rolled the dice carved out of my weathered bone
And offered of my blood the libation to the fane
When even the reaper’s mockery forsakes me alone
My own clangorous thoughts are the last to remain

When his dead father touched his hand, Athson almost dropped the arrow.

Man, Sub-creator, the refracted Light
through whom is splintered from a single White
to many hues, and endlessly combined
in living shapes that move from mind to mind.

Love is when you’d rather see someone one last time and die, than never see their face again.