He Had Discovered That People Who Allow

The Musty Smell, The Bugs, The Lonliness, This Room, Which Is Part Of The Street Outside-this Is All I Want From Life.

If I Was Bound For Hell, Let It Be Hell. No More False Heaven. No More Damned Magic.

Before I Could Read, Almost A Baby, I Imagined That God, This Strange Thing Or Person I Heard About, Was A Book.

She Could Give Herself Up To The Written Word As Naturally As A Good Dancer To Music Or A Fine Swimmer To Water. The Only Difficulty Was That After Finishing The Last Sentence She Was Left With A Feeling At Once Hollow And Uncomfortably Full. Exactly Like Indigestion.

There Are Always Two Deaths, The Real One And The One People Know About.