Madness Has Its Own Dynamism.

Truth, She Thought. As Terrible As Death. But Harder To Find.

The Pain, So Unexpected And Undeserved, Had For Some Reason Cleared Away The Cobwebs. I Realized I Didn’t Hate The Cabinet Door, I Hated My Life… My House, My Family, My Backyard, My Power Mower. Nothing Would Ever Change; Nothing New Could Ever Be Expected. It Had To End, And It Did. Now In The Dark World Where I Dwell, Ugly Things, And Surprising Things, And Sometimes Little Wondrous Things, Spill Out In Me Constantly, And I Can Count On Nothing.

Death Hides Within Every Religion. And At Any Time It Can Flash Forth-not With Healing In Its Wings But With Poison, With That Which Wounds.

I Mean, Knowing People, People Are Terrified Of The Unknown And They Want To Just Kill The Unknown.

Human Has Always Striven To Retain The Past, To Keep It Convincing; There's Nothing Wicked In That. Without It We Have No Continuity; We Have Only The Moment. And, Deprived Of The Past, The Moment - The Present - Has Little Meaning, If Any.