Applause Is The Beginning Of Abuse

The Real Mystery Is This Strange Need. Why Can't We Just Hide It And Shut Up? Why Do We Have To Blab? Why Do Human Beings Need To Confess?

That's The Paradox: The Only Time Most People Feel Alive Is When They're Suffering, When Something Overwhelms Their Ordinary, Careful Armour, And The Naked Child Is Flung Out Onto The World. That's Why The Things That Are Worst To Undergo Are Best To Remember. But When That Child Gets Buried Away Under Their Adaptive And Protective Shells—he Becomes One Of The Walking Dead, A Monster.

And As If Reporting Some Felony To The Police They Let You Know You Were Not John Donne.

The World's Decay Where The Wind's Hands Have Passed, And My Head, Worn Out With Love, At Rest In My Hands, And My Hands Full Of Dust.

One Day God Felt He Ought To Give His Workshop A Spring Clean... It Was Amazing What Ragged Bits And Pieces Came From Under His Workbench As He Swept. Beginnings Of Creatures, Bits That Looked Useful But Had Seemed Wrong, Ideas He'd Mislaid And Forgotten... There Was Even A Tiny Lump Of Sun. He Scratched His Head. What Could Be Done With All This Rubbish?