Life Pulls Softly Inside Your Bindings. The

I Was More Worn Out With The "odyssey" Than It Was With The "iliad." I Mean, Just Comparing Those Two - You Can See How It's Changing, How The Language Of The "iliad" Is Somehow Monstrously New - And That Language Of The "odyssey" Is More Comfortable, Even For Us.

Here We Go Mother On The Shipless Ocean. Pity Us, Pity The Ocean, Here We Go.

Small, Red, And Upright He Waited, Gripping His New Bookbag Tight In One Hand And Touching A Lucky Penny Inside His Coat Pocket With The Other, While The First Snows Of Winter Floated Down On His Eyelashes And Covered The Branches Around Him And Silenced All Trace Of The World.

Blessed Be They Whose Lives Do Not Taste Of Evilbut If Some God Shakes Your Houseruin Arrivesruin Does Not Leaveit Comes Tolling Over The Generationsit Comes Rolling The Black Night Salt Up From The Ocean Floorand All Your Thrashed Coasts Groan

Consider Incompleteness As A Verb.