Death Is The Least Civilized Rite Of

If, As I Suspect, My Body Survives By Uttering Itself Over And Over Again, Then I Have Some Questions. If [i] Am One Word, So Are My Daughters, So Are All Of Us In Strings And Loops. Each Life Is One Short Word Slowly Uttered.

Time Is The Water In Which We Live, And We Breathe It Like Fish. ... Time Pours Into Us And Then Pours Out Again. In Between The Two Pourings We Live Our Destiny.

Ravens Are The Birds I'll Miss Most When I Die. If Only The Darkness Into Which We Must Look Were Composed Of The Black Light Of Their Limber Intelligence. If Only We Did Not Have To Die At All. Instead, Become Ravens.

Don't Read Anything Except What Destroys The Insulation Between Yourself And Your Experience.

Things Which Do Not Grow And Change Are Dead Things.