Something In Me Was Responding Now As

I'm Going To Keep On Dealing With The Supernatural In A Lot Of Ways.

We Live In A World Full Of Accidents Finally In Which On Aesthetic Principles Have A Consistency Of Which We Can Be Sure. Right And Wrong We Will Struggle With Forever Striving To Create And Maintain An Ethical Balance. Right And Wrong We Will Struggle With Forever, Striving To Create And Maintain An Ethical Balance; But The Shimmer Of Summer Rain Under The Street Lamps Or The Great Flashing Glare Of Artillery Against A Night Sky – Such Brutal Beauty Is Beyond Dispute.

Writers Write About What Obsesses Them. You Draw Those Cards. I Lost My Mother When I Was 14. My Daughter Died At The Age Of 6. I Lost My Faith As A Catholic. When I'm Writing, The Darkness Is Always There. I Go Where The Pain Is.

You Have Made Me Ashamed Of The Wasted Years. You Have Made Me Acknowledge That No Darkness Has Ever Been Deep Enough To Extinguish My Personal Knowledge Of Love. And All Around Me In This World I See Evidence Of Love. I See Love. I See It In The Human Struggle. I See Its Undeniable Penetration In All That Humans Have Accomplished In Their Poetry, Their Painting, Their Music, Their Love Of One Another And Refusal To Accept Suffering As Their Lot.

The Truth Is, Laughter Always Sounds More Perfect Than Weeping. Laughter Flows In A Violent Riff And Is Effortlessly Melodic. Weeping Is Often Fought, Choked, Half Strangled, Or Surrendered To With Humiliation.