God, Why Didn't You Make Us All

Perhaps I Fear Him Because I Could Love Him Again, And In Loving Him, I Would Come To Need Him, And In Needing Him, I Would Again Be His Faithful Pupil In All Things, Only To Discover That His Patience For Me Is No Substitute For The Passion Which Long Ago Blazed In His Eyes.

Anger Is Too Pathetic. Anger Is As Weak As Fear.

In Spite Of All The Refinements Of Civilization That Conspired To Make Art--the Dizzying Perfection Of The String Quartet Or The Sprawling Grandeur Of Fragonard's Canvases--beauty Was Savage. It Was As Dangerous And Lawless As The Earth Had Been Eons Before Man Had One Single Coherent Thought In His Head Or Wrote Codes Of Conduct On Tablets Of Clay. Beauty Was A Savage Garden.

I Love New Orleans Physically. I Love The Trees And The Balmy Air And The Beautiful Days. I Have A Beautiful House Here.

The Spirit Who Inhabits Her Animates Us All. Destroy The Host, You Destroy The Power. The Young Die First; The Old Wither Slowly; The Eldest Perhaps Would Go Last. But She Is The Queen Of The Damned, And The Damned Can't Live Without Her.