Then a miracle occurred in the form of a plate of sandwiches. Geryon took three and buried his mouth in a delicious block of white bread filled with tomatoes and butter and salt. He thought about how delicious it was, how he liked slippery foods, how slipperiness can be of different kinds. I am a philosopher of sandwiches, he decided. Things good on the inside.

You doubt God? Well more to the point I credit God with the good sense to doubt me. What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us? For an instant God suspends assent and poof! we disappear.

I am a drop of gold he would say I am molten matter returned from the core of earth to tell you interior things-

Poetry - poiesis means a thing made.

No need to fear death. There will be a tunnel and light.

A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.

The self forms at the edge of desire, and a science of self arises in the effort to leave that self behind.