You Never Know The Palette Of The

Maybe A New Religion Will Rise Now. Maybe Without It, Man Will Crumble In Cynicism And Selfishness Because He Really Needs His Gods.

You Reach Deep Down And Bring Up What Feels Absolutely Authentic To You As You Move Along With The Book, But You Don't Know Everything About It. You Can't.

In A Way He Made Me Think Of A Child Doll, With Briliant Faintly Red-brown Glass Eyes - A Doll That Had Been Found In An Attic. I Wanted To Polish Him With Kisses, Clean Him Up, Make Him Evevn More Radiant Than He Was. "that's What You Always Want," He Said Softly... "when You Found Me Under Les Innocents," He Said, "you Wanted To Bathe Me With Perfume And Dress Me In Velvevt With Great Embroidered Sleeves." "yes," I Said, "and Comb Your Hair, Your Beautiful Russet Hair." My Tone Was Angry. "you Look Good To Me, You Damnable Little Devil, Good To Embrace And Good To Love.

People Who Cease To Believe In God Or Goodness Altogether Still Believe In The Devil. I Don't Know Why. No, I Do Indeed Know Why. Evil Is Always Possible. And Goodness Is Eternally Difficult.

Our Language Needs Endless Synonyms For Beautiful; The Eyes Could See What The Tongue Cannot Possibly Describe.