Every Second, Ten Stars Set Behind The

Because We Don't Know When We Will Die, We Get To Think Of Life As An Inexhaustible Well. Yet Everything Happens Only A Certain Number Of Times, And A Very Small Number Really. How Many More Times Will You Remember A Certain Afternoon Of Your Childhood, An Afternoon That Is So Deeply A Part Of Your Being That You Can't Even Conceive Of Your Life Without It? Perhaps Four Or Five Times More, Perhaps Not Even That. How Many More Times Will You Watch The Full Moon Rise? Perhaps 20. And Yet It All Seems Limitless.

She Was Saved From Prettiness By The Intensity Of Her Gaze.

A Black Star Appears, A Point Of Darkness In The Night Sky's Clarity. Point Of Darkness And Gateway To Repose. Reach Out, Pierce The Fine Fabric Of The Sheltering Sky, Take Repose.

The Sky Hides The Night Behind It And Shelters The People Beneath From The Horror That Lies Above.

It's Very Hard To Write About That Which Is Always Beautiful And Pleasant And Good. You Don't Get Anywhere With It. There's No Friction In It. There's No Trouble. You Have To Have Trouble. Somebody's Got To Get In Trouble, Or No One Wants To Read It.