Why Should Things Be Easy To Understand?

In Recent Weeks, In True Messianic Style, It Has Come Clear To Her That Her Real Identity Is Literally, The Force Of Gravity. I Am Gravity, I Am That Against Which The Rocket Must Struggle, To Which Prehistoric Wastes Submit And Are Transmuted To The Very Substance Of History.

Despair Came Over Her, As It Will When Nobody Around Has Any Sexual Relevance To You.

Right And Left; The Hothouse And The Street. The Right Can Only Live And Work Hermetically, In The Hothouse Of The Past, While Outside The Left Prosecute Their Affairs In The Streets Manipulated By Mob Violence. And Cannot Live But In The Dreamscape Of The Future.

But A Few Choosing To Venture Deeper Into The Painful Corridors Of Their Affliction, Found After A While That They Could Now Grind And Polish Ever More Exotic Surfaces, Hyperboloidial And Even Stranger, Eventually Including What We Must Term ‘imaginary’ Shapes (which Some Preferred To Term Invisible).

Who Claims Truth, Truth Abandons. History Is Hir'd, Or Coerc'd, Only In Interests That Must Ever Prove Base. She Is Too Innocent, To Be Left Within The Reach Of Anyone In Power,- Who Need But Touch Her, And All Her Credit Is In The Instant Vanish'd, As If It Had Never Been. She Needs Rather To Be Tended Lovingly And Honorably By Fabulists And Counterfeiters, Ballad-mongers And Cranks Of Ev'ry Radius, Masters Of Disguise To Provide Her The Costume, Toilette, And Bearing, And Speech Nimble Enough To Keep Her Beyond The Desires, Or Even The Curiosity, Of Government.