Sometimes I Heard Voices Muttering In My

All His Life Robert Grainier Would Remember Vividly The Burned Valley At Sundown, The Most Dreamlike Business He’d Ever Witnessed Waking—the Brilliant Pastels Of The Last Light Overhead, Some Clouds High And White, Catching Daylight From Beyond The Valley, Others Ribbed And Gray And Pink, The Lowest Of Them Rubbing The Peaks Of Bussard And Queen Mountains; And Beneath This Wondrous Sky The Black Valley, Utterly Still, The Train Moving Through It Making A Great Noise But Unable To Wake This Dead World.

This Wasn't The Sea Of The Inexorable Horizon And Smashing Waves, Not The Sea Of Distance And Violence, But The Sea Of The Etenally Leveling Patience And Wetness Of Water. Whether It Comes To You In A Storm Or In A Cup, It Owns You--we Are More Water Than Dust. It Is Our Origin And Our Destination.

Will You Believe Me When I Tell You There Was Kindness In His Heart? His Left Hand Didn't Know What His Right Hand Was Doing. It Was Only That Certain Important Connections Had Been Burned Through. If I Opened Up Your Head And Ran A Hot Soldering Iron Around In Your Brain, I Might Turn You Into Someone Like That.

We In Purgatory Sing Fondly Of Hell.

I Feel Very Privileged To Hear How Somebody Used To Run Around Stickin' People Up And Stealing Cars, And Now They're Gettin' Their Life Back Together... I Just Love The Stories. The Stories Of The Fallen World, They Excite Us. That's The Interesting Stuff.