I don’t believe in myths of decline or myths of progress, even as regards to the literary scene. The world does not get to be a better or a worse place; it just gets more senescent. The world gets older, without getting either better or worse and so does literature.

Each great athlete must some day bow to that perennial old champion, Father Time, even as I, for Time eventually wins.

I could flay you and wear your skin as a cloak, and caper in the streets in the moonlight. But some might consider that crass treatment of a guest." I nod. “Well, some people got no sense of humor, do they?" “I am one of those people.

Written By Ruth Toksy

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