There Is No God And We Are

For The Poor Any Choice Was A Gift With Two Faces.

It's The Tide. It's The Dismal Tide. It's Not The One Thing.

In The Spring Or Warmer Weather When The Snow Thaws In The Woods The Tracks Of Winter Reappear On Slender Pedestals And The Snow Reveals In Palimpsest Old Buried Wanderings, Struggles, Scenes Of Death. Tales Of Winter Brought To Light Again Like Time Turned Back Upon Itself.

The Trouble With A Liar Is He Can't Remember What He Said.

The Core Of Literature Is The Idea Of Tragedy... You Don't Really Learn Much From The Good Things That Happen To You.