Books are like oxygen to a deep-sea diver," she had once said. "Take them away and you might as well begin counting the bubbles.
Although it is pleasant to think about poison at any season, there is something special about Christmas, and I found myself grinning.
Yaroo!" I shouted, and I didn't give a beetle's bottom who heard me. "Ya-rooo!
Do What?' 'Lie,' he said. 'Why do you fabricate these outlandish stories?' 'Well,' I wanted to say, 'there are those of us who create because all around us, things visible and invisible are crumbling. We are like the stonemasons of Babylon, forever w...
