Upon being condemned 2 this world of war, I was granted but 1 weapon. My pen is my chosen instrument. With it I fight many things, both fools & kings, ogres, & ghosts, & monsters with wings. Am I what I write? I both am & am not. It is more than & less than what I am. I know only this: I EXIST to write! Nothing more. But certainly nothing less than this! “I believe in the sun when it's not shining, I believe in love even when I feel it not, I believe in God even when he is silent.”
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