Give us this, our time in the sun, for we too will age and die. Each generation grows up knowing the past generations never could relate. We invent anew all life's tragedies and joys, and blessed are those who can point this out and get us all laughing. Time is a sad piece of work that traps us into the boxes of years. You are always every age, crystallized in paper and ink until I touched your pages. How many generations will pick up the books? As I walked into adulthood, so walk my daughters and their daughters and theirs and theirs and theirs. There is reality in this martini glass with a mobius twist of lemon looped back on itself. Let's knock 'em back until time itself has the last laugh and freezes us all into that icy silence of eternity.
Rest in peace.
And then a living author: interview with Tanya Huff. And she's fanfic-friendly! Just don't tell her about it!