If A Man's At Odds To Know

If You Could Breathe A Breath So Strong You Could Blow Out The Wolf. Like You Blow Out The Copo. Like You Blow Out The Fire From The Candela. The Wolf Is Made The Way The World Is Made. You Cannot Touch The World. You Cannot Hold It In Your Hand For It Is Made Of Breath Only.

What You Alter In The Remembering Has Yet A Reality, Known Or Not.

Suttree Surfaced From These Fevered Deeps To Hear A Maudlin Voice Chant Latin By His Bedside, What Medieval Ghost Come To Usurp His Fallen Corporeality. An Oiled Thumball Redolent Of Lime And Sage Pondered His Shuttered Lids.miserere Mei, Deus ...his Ears Anointed, His Lips ... Omnis Maligna Discordia ... Bechrismed With Scented Oils He Lay Boneless In A Cold Euphoria. Japheth When You Left Your Father's House The Birds Had Flown. You Were Not Prepared For Such Weathers. You'd Spoke Too Lightly Of The Winter In Your Father's Heart. We Saw You In The Streets. Sad.

If God Meant To Interfere In The Degeneracy Of Mankind Would He Not Have Done So By Now? Wolves Cull Themselves, Man. What Other Creatures Could? And Is The Race Of Man Not More Predacious Yet?

People Apparently Only Read Mystery Stories Of Any Length. With Mysteries, The Longer The Better, And People Will Read Any Damn Thing. But The Indulgent, 800-page Books That Were Written A Hundred Years Ago Are Just Not Going To Be Written Anymore, And People Need To Get Used To That.