Just As The Habit Does Not Make

Some People Spend Their Entire Lives Reading But Never Get Beyond Reading The Words On The Page, They Don't Understand That The Words Are Merely Stepping Stones Placed Across A Fast-flowing River, And The Reason They're There Is So That We Can Reach The Farther Shore, It's The Other Side That Matters...

Blessed Be The Night, Which Conceals And Protects Things Fair And Foul With The Same Indifferent Mantle.

Americans Have Discovered The Fragility Of Life, That Ominous Fragility That The Rest Of The World Either Already Experienced Or Is Experiencing Now With Terrible Intensity.

Death Is The Inventor Of God.

Words Are Like That, They Deceive, They Pile Up, It Seems They Do Not Know Where To Go, And, Suddenly, Because Of Two Or Three Or Four That Suddenly Come Out, Simple In Themselves, A Personal Pronoun, An Adverb, An Adjective, We Have The Excitement Of Seeing Them Coming Irresistibly To The Surface Through The Skin And The Eyes And Upsetting The Composure Of Our Feelings, Sometimes The Nerves That Can Not Bear It Any Longer, They Put Up With A Great Deal, They Put Up With Everything, It Was As If They Were Wearing Armor, We Might Say.