Maybe It's Like Mac Says. Ever Man

What He Loved In Horses Was What He Loved In Men, The Blood And The Heat Of The Blood That Ran Them. All His Reverence And All His Fondness And All The Leanings Of His Life Were For The Ardenhearted And They Would Always Be So And Never Be Otherwise. (all The Pretty Horses)

By Early Evening All The Sky To The North Had Darkened And The Spare Terrain They Trod Had Turned A Neuter Gray As Far As The Eye Could See. They Grouped In The Road At The Top Of A Rise And Looked Back. The Storm Front Towered Above Them And The Wind Was Cool On Their Sweating Faces. They Slumped Bleary-eyed In Their Saddles And Looked At One Another. Shrouded In The Black Thunderheads The Distant Lightning Glowed Mutely Like Welding Seen Through Foundry Smoke. As If Repairs Were Under Way At Some Flawed Place N The Iron Dark Of The World.

There Is No Forgiveness. For Women. A Man May Lose His Honor And Regain It Again. But A Woman Cannot. She Cannot.

Suttree Surfaced From These Fevered Deeps To Hear A Maudlin Voice Chant Latin By His Bedside, What Medieval Ghost Come To Usurp His Fallen Corporeality. An Oiled Thumball Redolent Of Lime And Sage Pondered His Shuttered Lids.miserere Mei, Deus ...his Ears Anointed, His Lips ... Omnis Maligna Discordia ... Bechrismed With Scented Oils He Lay Boneless In A Cold Euphoria. Japheth When You Left Your Father's House The Birds Had Flown. You Were Not Prepared For Such Weathers. You'd Spoke Too Lightly Of The Winter In Your Father's Heart. We Saw You In The Streets. Sad.

The Martyr Who Longs For The Flames Can Be No Right Candidate For Them.