Death Is Too Much To

Oh, Wise Young Judge.

I Have Really Sinned. I Am Going To Pause Now, And Sit Here On The Mound Repenting In Deepest Shame.

There Was A Wonderful Atmosphere Of Gentle Age, A Smell Of Flowers And Beeswax, Sweet Yet Faintly Sour And Musty; A Smell That Makes You Feel Very Tender Towards The Past.

Truthfulness So Often Goes With Ruthlessness.

And Who Says You Always Have To Understand Things? You Can Like Them Without Understanding Them -- Like 'em Better Sometimes.