The Unspeakable Visions Of The Individual.

I Was Halfway Across America, At The Dividing Line Between The East Of My Youth And The West Of My Future.

Never Dreaming, Was I, Poor Jack Duluoz, That The Soul Is Dead. That From Heaven Grace Descends . . . No Doctor Pisspot Poorpail To Tell Me; No Example Inside My First And Only Skin. That Love Is The Heritage, And Cousin To Death. That The Only Love Can Only Be The First Love, The Only Death The Last, The Only Life Within, And The Only Word . . . Choked Forever.

And Still The Void Is Still And'll Never Move - But I Will Be The Void, Moving Without Having Moved.

The Fact Was I Had The Vision... I Think Everyone Has... What We Lack Is The Method.

What Is He Aching To Do? What Are We All Aching To Do? What Do We Want?” She Didn’t Know. She Yawned. She Was Sleepy. It Was Too Much. Nobody Could Tell. Nobody Would Ever Tell. It Was All Over. She Was Eighteen And Most Lovely, And Lost.