That Which Is Imagined Can Never Be

I Am A Man, And Men Are Animals Who Tell Stories. This Is A Gift From God, Who Spoke Our Species Into Being, But Left The End Of Our Story Untold. That Mystery Is Troubling To Us. How Could It Be Otherwise? Without The Final Part, We Think, How Are We To Make Sense Of All That Went Before: Which Is To Say, Our Lives? So We Make Stories Of Our Own, In Fevered And Envious Imitation Of Our Maker, Hoping That We'll Tell, By Chance, What God Left Untold. And Finishing Our Tale, Come To Understand Why We Were Born.

Perhaps Sunlight Had Always Been Luminous, And Doorways Signs Of Greater Passage Than That Of One Room To Another. But She’d Not Noticed It Until Now.

Writing About The Unholy Is One Way Of Writing About What Is Sacred.

Everything Is In Flux: Everything Changes; The Body Changes, The Soul Changes. We Are Capable Of Extraordinary Self-transmutat Ion And Internal Self-transforma Tion.

Of All The Rash And Midnight Promises Made In The Name Of Love, None, Boone Now Knew, Was More Certain To Be Broken Than "i'll Never Leave You.