Slay That Dragon Once, And He Will

I Was Keenly Conscious Of The Comrades-in-arms Who Had Fallen With Me. A Bond Surpassing By A Hundredfold That Which I Had Known In Life Bound Me To Them. I Felt A Sense Of Inexpressible Relief And Realized That I Had Feared, More Than Death, Separation From Them. I Apprehended That Excruciating War Survivor's Torment, The Sense Of Isolation And Self-betrayal Experienced By Those Who Had Elected To Cling Yet To Breath When Their Comrades Had Let Loose Their Grip.

Contempt For Failure Is Our Cardinal Virtue.

You And I May Only Be Mortals, With All The Foolishness And Fallibility That That State Implies, But We're Mortals Made In The Image Of Heaven. The Gods Can't Do Their Work Without Us. So Let's Be Bold, In Their Cause And In Our Own. It's Our Job, We Humans, To Make Manifest That Which Is Unmanifest-and To Raise Into Consciousness, In This Material Dimension, That Which Had Been Known Before Only In Heaven.

The Artist And The Mother Are Vehicles, Not Originators. They Don't Create The New Life, They Only Bear It. This Is Why Birth Is Such A Humbling Experience. The New Mom Weeps In Awe At The Little Miracle In Her Arms. She Knows It Came Out Of Her But Not From Her, Through Her But Not Of Her.

Cousin, The Days Of Gods And Heroes Are Over." "not To Me. Not To Them.