This Wasn't The Sea Of The Inexorable

Its Always Been My Tendency To Lie To Doctors, As If Good Health Consisted Only Of The Ability To Fool Them.

Memories Assailed Him Of How Gently She Had Spoken, Touched, And Moved; Of How She'd Loved Him Fiercely Despite His Mistakes And Obsessions And Weaknesses. And The Conviction Descended On Him That Love Like Theirs Couldn't Possibly Suffer Any Change.

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.

She Wanted To Eat My Heart And Be Lost In The Desert With What She'd Done, She Wanted To Fall On Her Knees And Give Birth From It, She Wanted To Hurt Me As Only A Child Can Be Hurt By Its Mother.

This Life Is But The Childhood Of Our Immortality.