Today In My Heart A Vague Trembling

Ever Since I Got Married I've Been Thinking Night And Day About Whose Fault It Was, And Every Time I Think About It, Out Comes A New Fault To Eat Up The Old One; But Always There's A Fault Left.

There Is Nothing More Poetic And Terrible Than The Skyscrapers' Battle With The Heavens That Cover Them. Snow, Rain, And Mist Highlight, Drench, Or Conceal The Vast Towers, But Those Towers, Hostile To Mystery And Blind To Any Sort Of Play, Shear Off The Rain's Tresses And Shine Their Three Thousand Swords Through The Soft Swan Of The Fog.

Besides Black Art, There Is Only Automation And Mechanization.

The World Is A Shoulder Of Dark Meat (black Flesh Of An Old Mule). And The Light Is On The Other Side.

Love Is The Kiss In The Quiet Nest While The Leaves Are Trembling, Mirrored In The Water.