You May Never Get To Touch The

So Generation After Generation Of Men In Love With Pain And Passivity Serve Out Their Time In The Zone, Silent, Redolent Of Faded Sperm, Terrified Of Dying, Desperately Addicted To The Comforts Others Sell Them, However Useless, Ugly Or Shallow, Willing To Have Life Defined For Them By Men Whose Only Talent Is For Death.

If America Was A Person, And It Sat Down, Lancaster Town Would Be Plunged Into A Darkness Unbreathable.

She Thougt Of Sunrise Over The Library Slope At Cornell University That Nobody Out On It Had Seen Because The Slope Faces West.

But As With Maxwell's Demon, So Now. Either She Could Not Communicate, Or He Did Not Exist.

For Every Kind Of Vampire, There Is A Kind Of Cross