I Am Clever Enough To Know That

This Tower, Patched Unevenly With Black Ivy, Arose Like A Mutilated Finger From Among The Fists Of Knuckled Masonry And Pointed Blasphemously At Heaven. At Night The Owls Made Of It An Echoing Throat; By Day It Stood Voiceless And Cast Its Long Shadow.

It Was Not Certain What Significance The Ceremony Held... But The Formality Was No Less Sacred For It Being Unintelligible

And Now, My Poor Old Woman, Why Are You Crying So Bitterly? It Is Autumn. The Leaves Are Falling From The Trees Like Burning Tears- The Wind Howls. Why Must You Mimic Them?

He Had No Longer Any Need For Home, For He Carried His Gormenghast Within Him. All That He Sought Was Jostling Within Himself. He Had Grown Up. What A Boy Had Set Out To Seek A Man Had Found, Found By The Act Of Living.

Oh How I Hate People!