Don't Mourn, Organise

What A Blessed If Painful Thing, This Business Of Being Alive.

He Understood That The Ghost Existed First And Foremost Within His Own Head. That Maybe Ghosts Always Haunted Minds, Not Places. If He Wanted To Take A Shot At It, He’d Have To Turn The Barrel Against His Own Temple.

It Bewildered Ig, The Idea That A Person Could Not Be Interested In Music. It Was Like Not Being Interested In Happiness.

It Was Like Wondering How Evil Had Come Into The World Or What Happens To A Person After He Dies: An Interesting Philosophical Exercise, But Also Curiously Pointless, Since Evil And Death Happened, Regardless Of The Why And The How And What-it-meant.

We'll Have Freedom, Love And Health/when The Grand Red Flag Is Flying, In The Workers' Commonwealth.