Bless the Maker and His water. Bless the coming and going of Him. May His passage cleanse the world. May He keep the world for His people.

Parting with friends is a sadness. A place is only a place.

When I need to identify rebels, I look for men with principles

Any man who retreats into a cave which has only one opening deserves to die.

Power attracts the corruptible. Suspect any who seek it.

There's hope left in these dusty chords. There's a song left in our rusty hearts. We are torn and frayed but love remains.

The flesh surrenders itself. Eternity takes back its own. Our bodies stirred these waters briefly, danced with a certain intoxication before the love of life and self, dealt with a few strange ideas, then submitted to the instruments of Time. What can we say of this? I occurred. I am not...yet, I occurred.