Nothing Ever Begins. There Is

There’s No Conscious Thing On The Face Of The World That Doesn’t Know Dread More Intimately Than Its Own Heartbeat.

Nothing Happens Carelessly. We’re Not Brought Into The World Without Reason, Even Though We May Never Understand The Reason. An Infant That Lives An Hour, That Dies Before It Can Lay Eyes On Those Who Made It, Even That Soul Did Not Live Without Purpose: This Is My Sudden Certainty.

Everybody Is A Book Of Blood; Wherever We're Opened, We're Red.

I Dreamt A Limitless Book, A Book Unbound, Its Leaves Scattered In Fantastic Abundance On Every Line There Was A New Horizon Drawn, New Heavens Supposed; New States, New Souls.

I'm A Poet,' The Young Man Said, 'and It's My Job To Remember The Sadness Of Things.