Just Spunk Won't Be Enough;

And Somewhat As In Blind Night, On A Mild Sea, A Sailor May Be Made Aware Of An Iceberg, Fanged And Mortal, Bearing Invisibly Near, By The Unwarned Charm Of Its Breath, Nothingness Now Revealed Itself: That Permanent Night Upon Which The Stars In Their Expiring Generations Are Less Than The Glinting Of Gnats, And Nebulae, More Trivial Than Winter Breath; That Darkness In Which Eternity Lies Bent And Pale, A Dead Snake In A Jar, And Infinity Is The Sparkling Of A Wren Blown Out To Sea; That Inconceivable Chasm Of Invulnerable Silence In Which Cataclysms Of Galaxies Rave Mute As Amber.

Truth Lies Within A Little And Certain Compass, But Error Is Immense.

As Small, Quick, Foolproof Cameras Became Generally Available, Moreover, The Camera Has Been Used So Much And So Flabbily By So Many People That It Has Acted As A Sort Of Contraceptive On The Ability To See.

Of Those That Are Drawn Away, Each Is Drawn Elsewhere Toward Another: Once More A Man And A Woman, In A Loneliness They Are Not Liable At That Time To Notice, Are Tightened Together Upon A Bed: And Another Family Has Begun.

It Is Clear Enough By Now To Most People That The Camera Never Lies Is A Foolish Saying. Yet It Is Doubtful Whether Most People Realize How Extraordinarily Slippery A Liar The Camera Is.