I Know That I Want To Bring

Nothing Else Wounds So Deeply And Irreparably. Nothing Else Robs Us Of Hope So Much As Being Unloved By One We Love

A Man Kills The Thing He Loves, And He Must Die A Little Himself.

In This Sense Love Is Of A Different Order To Any Other Phenomenon, For It May Be Both An Event And A Sign Of That Invisible Mechanism I Spoke Of Before; Perhaps The Finest Sign, The Most Certain. In It’s Throes We Need Neither Luck Nor Science. We Are The Wheel, And The Man Who Profits By It. We Are The Star, And The Darkness It Pierces. We Are The Butterfly, Brief And Beautiful.

‎"magic Is The First And Last Religion Of The World. It Has The Power To Make Us Whole, To Open Our Eyes To The Dominions And Return Us To Ourselves. Everything That Isn't Us Is Also Ourselves. We're Joined To Everything That Was, Is And Will Be. From One End Of The Imajica To Another. From The Tiniest Mote Dancing Over This Flame To The Godhead Itself.

Angels Have Very Nasty Tempers. Especially When They’re Feeling Righteous.