Absence, The Highest Form Of Presence.

By His Monstrous Way Of Life He Seemed To Have Put Himself Beyond The Limits Of Reality. Nothing Moved Him Or Spoke To Him From The Real World Unless He Heard It In An Echo Of The Infuriated Cries Within Him.

Sometimes He Caught Himself Listening To The Sound Of His Own Voice. He Thought That In Her Eyes He Would Ascent To An Angelical Stature; And, As He Attached The Fervent Nature Of His Companion More And More Closely To Him, He Heard The Strange Impersonal Voice Which He Recognised As His Own, Insisting On The Soul's Incurable Lonliness. We Cannot Give Ourselves, It Said: We Are Our Own.

Masturbation! The Amazing Availability Of It!

I Have The Words Already. What I Am Seeking Is The Perfect Order Of Words In The Sentence. You Can See For Yourself How Many Different Ways They Might Be Arranged.

Life Is Too Short To Read A Bad Book.