Do we mean love, when we say love?

I want very much to be back in the caul, on my back in the dark forever.

The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.

Adulterers, take warning, never admit.

Nothing matters but the writing. There has been nothing else worthwhile... a stain upon the silence.

[T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.

How can one better magnify the Almighty than by sniggering with him at his little jokes, particularly the poorer ones?