Glory, As Anyone Knows, Is Bitter Stuff.

..and Certain That Life Consisted Of A Few Simple Signals And Decisions; That Death Took Root At The Moment Of Birth And Man’s Only Recourse Thereafter Was To Water And Tend It; That Propagation Was A Fiction; Consequently, Society Was A Fiction Too; That Fathers And Teachers, By Virtue Of Being Fathers And Teachers, Were Guilty Of A Grievous Sin.

We Had Stretched Out Our Arms To Each Other And Supported Something In Our Joined Hands, But This Thing We Were Holding Was Like A Sort Of Gas That Exists When You Believe In Its Existence And Disappears When You Doubt. The Task Of Supporting It Seems Simple At First Glance, But Actually Requires An Ultimate Refinement Of Calculation And A Consummate Skill.

Perfect Purity Is Possible If You Turn Your Life Into A Line Of Poetry Written With A Splash Of Blood.

When A Captive Lion Steps Out Of His Cage, He Comes Into A Wider World Than The Lion Who Has Known Only The Wilds. While He Was In Captivity, There Were Only Two Worlds For Him - The World Of The Cage, And The World Outside The Cage. Now He Is Free. He Roars. He Attacks People. He Eats Them. Yet He Is Not Satisfied, For There Is No Third World That Is Neither The World Of The Cage Nor The World Outside The Cage.

I Seemed Like A Baby Bird Keeping Its Truly Innocent Animal Lusts Hidden Under Its Wing. I Was Being Tempted, Not By The Desire Of Possession, But Simply By Unadorned Temptation Itself.