She Shrieks Above The Din. "if You

Reality Is A State Of Mind. To The Banker, The Money In His Ledger Book Is All Very Real, Though He Doesn't Actually See It Or Touch It. But To The Brahma, It Simply Doesn't Exist The Way The Air And The Earth, Pain And Loss Do. To Him, The Banker's Reality Is Folly. To The Banker, The Brahma's Ideas Are As Inconsequential As Dust.

The Glow Dies Down, And She's Standing At The End Of My Bed--the One Who's Been Following Me Around Leaving Feather Messages. I Take In The Torn Fishnets, Plaid Mini-kilt, Shiny, Riveted Breastplate With Leather Straps At The Sides And A Worn Great Temolo Decal Near The Left Shoulder. Her Wings Are A Crazy Black-and-white-checkered Pattern, Like They've Been Spray-painted At A Body Shop To Look Like Hipster Sneakers.

So Much Of The Literature We Had To Read For High School English Class Was Filled With Victimized, Tragic, Symbolic Women Who Spurred The Plot Forward With Their Inevitable Shunning/death/shunning-followed-by-pregnancy-followed-by-death Timelines.

The Line Between Faith And Fanaticism Is A Constantly Shifting One,” Dr. Poblocki Said. “when Does Belief Become Justification? When Does Right Become Rationale And Crusade Become Crime?

People Will Believe Anything If It Means They Can Go On With Their Lives And Not Have To Think Too Hard About It.