A site devoted to the art of the mystery, and to musings on a writerly life…
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Thereby hangs a tale… We fight our fears by taking risks. We jump, free-fall, and pray the net will appear. Here’s to falling into softness, to conquering summits, and gaining the pinnacle of hope. Look, Mom, no fears! The Waterfall … Continue reading
Thereby hangs a tale… “Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that … Continue reading
Thereby hangs a tale… There is something equal opportunity about the seduction of words. William Butler Yeats, the great Irish poet of tremendous power, both political and poetical, seduces us into summer. Fergus, a druid king, held mastery over nature, … Continue reading
Thereby hangs a tale… When the world makes no sense, nonsense is the antidote—nonsense poems, of course. There’s plenty of no sense in my world, office politics and the piffle of newscasters, a proliferation of personality types to juggle like … Continue reading
Thereby hangs a tale… May, that merry month, filled up with stars and sunlight and balms of winded air. In Santa Barbara the Jacarandas bloom, and cast their netted lace, purple against the skies. Mockingbirds dance, mating and motherhood governing … Continue reading