The Possession Of A Book Becomes A

The Aura Of The Theocratic Death Penalty For Adultery Still Clings To America, Even Outside New England, And Multiple Divorce, Which Looks To The European Like Serial Polygamy, Is The Moral Solution To The Problem Of The Itch.

If You Believe In An Unseen Christ, You Will Believe In The Unseen Christlike Potential Of Others.

Senseless Violence Is A Prerogative Of Youth, Which Has Much Energy But Little Talent For The Constructive.

Americans Will Listen, But They Do Not Care To Read. War And Peace Must Wait For The Leisure Of Retirement, Which Never Really Comes: Meanwhile It Helps To Furnish The Living Room.

The Trombones Crunched Redgold Under My Bed, And Behind My Gulliver The Trumpets Three-wise Silverflamed, And There By The Door The Timps Rolling Through My Guts And Out Again Crunched Like Candy Thunder. Oh, It Was Wonder Of Wonders. And Then, A Bird Of Like Rarest Spun Heavenmetal, Or Like Silvery Wine Flowing In A Spaceship, Gravity All Nonsense Now, Came The Violin Solo Above All The Other Strings, And Those Strings Were Like A Cage Of Silk Around My Bed. Then Flute And Oboe Bored, Like Worms Of Like Platinum, Into The Thick Thick Toffee Gold And Silver. I Was In Such Bliss, My Brothers.