Superman Is, After All, An Alien Life

We Burn So Hard, But We Shed So Little Light; It Makes Us Crazy And Sad.

Even Winter — The Hardest Season, The Most Implacable — Dreams, As February Creeps On, Of The Flame That Will Presently Melt It Away. Everything Tires With Time, And Starts To Seek Some Opposition, To Save It From Itself.

But I Think Humans Are Innately Religious As A Species, So You Don't Need A Specific Excuse For Examining The Perversely Unholy.

Did I Say That She Was Beautiful? I Was Wrong. Beauty Is Too Tame A Notion; It Evokes Only Faces In Magazines. A Lovely Eloquence, A Calming Symmetry; None Of That Describes This Woman’s Face. So Perhaps I Should Assume I Cannot Do It Justice With Words. Suffice It To Say That It Would Break Your Heart To See Her; And It Would Mend What Was Broken In The Same Moment; And You Would Be Twice What You’d Been Before.

You Have To Taste The Sour Urine Before You Break The Jug.