The Death Of God Left The Angels

Take Me Home," Snow White Said. "take Me Home Instantly. If There Is Anything Worse Than Being Home, It Is Being Out.

I Keep Wondering If, Say, There Is Intelligent Life On Other Planets, The Scientists Argue That Something Like Two Percent Of The Other Planets Have The Conditions, The Physical Conditions, To Support Life In The Way It Happened Here, Did Christ Visit Each And Every Planet, Go Through The Same Routine, The Agony In The Garden, The Crucifixion, And So On.

I Am Never Needlessly Obscure - I Am Needfully Obscure, When I Am Obscure.

We Like Books That Have A Lot Of Dreck In Them, Matter Which Presents Itself As Not Wholly Relevant (or Indeed, At All Relevant) But Which, Carefully Attended To, Can Supply A Kind Of "sense" Of What Is Going On. This "sense" Is Not To Be Obtained By Reading Between The Lines (for There Is Nothing There, In Those White Spaces) But By Reading The Lines Themselves Looking At Them And So Arriving At A Feeling Not Of Satisfaction Exactly, That Is Too Much To Expect, But Of Having Read Them, Of Having "completed" Them.

The Not-knowing Is Crucial To Art, Is What Permits Art To Be Made. Without The Scanning Process Engendered By Not-knowing, Without The Possibility Of Having The Mind Move In Unanticipated Directions, There Would Be No Invention.