I Haven't Even Had A Life I

Harvey Wasn't Interested In The Clothes, It Was The Masks That Mesmerized Him. They Were Like Snowflakes: No Two Alike. Some Were Made Of Wood And Of Plastic; Some Of Straw And Cloth And Papier-mâché. Some Were As Bright As Parrots, Others As Pale As Parchment. Some Were So Grotesque He Was Certain They'd Been Carved By Crazy People; Others So Perfect They Looked Like The Death Masks Of Angels. There Were Masks Of Clowns And Foxes, Masks Like Skulls Decorated With Real Teeth, And One With Carved Flames Instead Of Hair.

We're Both Thieves, Harvey Swick. I Take Time. You Take Lives. But In The End We're The Same: Both Thieves Of Always.

Journey To The End Of Day, Come The Fire-fly, Come The Moon; Say A Prayer For God's Good Grace And Sleep With Lore Upon Your Face.

Your Flesh Is Killing Your Spirit. You Have Forsaken Yourself.

True Joy Is A Profound Remembering; And True Grief The Same.