In The End, There Is No End.

I Want To Apologize For Plaguing You With So Many Telephone Calls Last November And December. When The 'enthusiasm' Is Coming On Me It Is Accompanied By A Feverish Reaching Out To My Friends. After Its Over I Wince And Wither.

The Scythers, Time And Death, Helmed Locusts, Move Upon The Tree Of Breath

History Has To Live With What Was Here, Clutching And Close To Fumbling All We Had - It Is So Dull And Gruesome How We Die, Unlike Writing, Life Never Finishes.

Talking About The Past Is Like A Cat's Trying To Explain Climbing Down A Ladder.

I Was Overcome With An Attack Of Pathological Enthusiasm.