Seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder.
You who wish to conquer pain, you must learn what makes one kind.
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
Get ready for the future: it is murder.
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin
The Dream" "O I had such a wonderful dream, she said. I dreamed you made love to me. At last, he said to himself, the spirit has taken up some of the heavy work.