There Are Those Who Know And Those

Listen,” F. Jasmine Said. “what I’ve Been Trying To Say Is This. Doesn’t It Strike You As Strange That I Am I, And You Are You? I Am F. Jasmine Addams. And You Are Berenice Sadie Brown. And We Can Look At Each Other, And Touch Each Other, And Stay Together Year In And Year Out In The Same Room. Yet Always I Am I, And You Are You. And I Can’t Ever Be Anything Else But Me, And You Can Ever Be Anything Else But You. Have You Ever Thought Of That? And Does It Seem To You Strange?

I Have More To Say Than Hemingway, And God Knows, I Say It Better Than Faulkner.

Don't You Loathe It When Doctors Use The Word 'we' When It Applies Only And Solely To Yourself?

But Look What The Church Has Done To Jesus During The Last Two Thousand Years. What They Have Made Of Him. How They Have Turned Every Word He Spoke For Their Own Vile Ends. Jesus Would Be Framed And In Jail If He Was Living Today.

This Was Her, Mick Kelly, Walking In The Daytime And By Herself At Night. In The Hot Sun And In The Dark With All The Plans And Feelings. This Music Was Her—the Real Plain Her...this Music Did Not Take A Long Time Or A Short Time. It Did Not Have Anything To Do With Time Going By At All. She Sat With Her Arms Around Her Legs, Biting Her Salty Knee Very Hard. The Whole World Was This Symphony, And There Was Not Enough Of Her To Listen... Now That It Was Over There Was Only Her Heart Beating Like A Rabbit And This Terrible Hurt.