I've Never Had A Cup Of Coffee

She Died On A Windy Gray Day In March When The Sky Was Full Of Darting Crows And The World Lay Prostrate And Defeated After Winter. Peter Lake Was At Her Side And It Ruined Him Forever. It Broke Him As He Had Not Ever Imagined He Could Have Been Broken. He Would Never Again Be Young, Or Able To Remember What It Was Like To Be Young. What He Had Once Taken To Be Pleasures Would Appear To Him In His Defeat As Hideous And Deserved Punishments For Reckless Vanity.

Who Said That Justice Is What You Imagine? Can You Be Sure That You Know It When You See It, That You Will Live Long Enough To Recognize The Decisive Thunder Of Its Occurrence, That It Can Be Manifest Within A Generation, Within Ten Generations, Within The Entire Span Of Human Existence? What You Are Talking About Is Common Sense, Not Justice. Justice Is Higher And Not As Easy To Understand - Until It Presents Itself In Unmistakable Splendor. The Design Of Which I Speak Is Far Above Our Understanding. But We Can Sometimes Feel Its Presence.

Justice Can Sleep For Years And Awaken When It Is Least Expected. A Miracle Is Nothing More Than Dormant Justice From Another Time Arriving To Compensate Those It Has Cruelly Abandoned. Whoever Knows This Is Willing To Suffer, For He Knows That Nothing Is In Vain.

[when] He's Here, He's Always Reading. He Says Books Stop Time. I Myself Think He's Crazy...don't Tell Anyone, But When He Reads Something That He Likes He Gets Real Happy, Turns On The Music, And Dances By Himself, Or With A Broom Sometimes.

For What Can Be Imagined More Beautiful Than The Sight Of A Perfectly Just City Rejoicing In Justice Alone.