...not Deciding To Act Would

Everything That Falls Upon The Eye Is Apparition, A Sheet Dropped Over The World's True Workings. The Nerves And The Brain Are Tricked, And One Is Left With Dreams That These Specters Loose Their Hands From Ours And Walk Away, The Curve Of The Back And The Swing Of The Coat So Familiar As To Imply That They Should Be Permanent Fixtures Of The World, When In Fact Nothing Is More Perishable.

... But It's Your Existence I Love You For, Mainly. Existence Seems To Me Now The Most Remarkable Thing That Could Ever Be Imagined.

I Do Have An Impulse To Sort Of Leverage What I Say Against Something I Disagree With.

The Assumption Behind Any Theology That I've Ever Been Familiar With Is That There Is A Profound Beauty In Being, Simply In Itself. Poetry, At Least Traditionally, Has Been An Educing Of The Beauty Of Language, The Beauty Of Experience, The Beauty Of The Working Of The Mind, And So On. The Pastor Does, Indeed, Appreciate It.

I Think Hope Is The Worst Thing In The World. I Really Do. It Makes A Fool Of You While It Lasts. And Then When It's Gone, It's Like There's Nothing Left Of You At All . . . Except What You Can't Be Rid Of.