Evil Would Always Come To Me Disguised

Walking The Streets Of Charleston In The Late Afternoons Of August Was Like Walking Through Gauze Or Inhaling Damaged Silk.

Why Do They Not Teach You That Time Is A Finger Snap And An Eye Blink, And That You Should Not Allow A Moment To Pass You By Without Taking Joyous, Ecstatic Note Of It, Not Wasting A Single Moment Of Its Swift, Breakneck Circuit?

If Smallness Was Fortune, Then I Had Come Across A Treasure, Infinitesimal And Beyond Value. I Felt Lucky. You Had To Decide What Was Estimable And Precious In Your Life And Set Out To Find It. The Objects You Valued Defined You.

I Can't Pass A Bookstore Without Slipping Inside, Looking For The Next Book That Will Burn My Hand When I Touch Its Jacket, Or Hand Me Over A Promissory Note Of Such Immense Power That It Contains The Formula That Will Change Everything About Me.

Writing Poetry And Reading Books Causes Brain Damage.