Nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world.
Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever.... You might want to think about that.
Not all dying words are true.
How does the never to be differ from the what never was?
If you break little promises you'll break big ones.
All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes.
He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe.
Each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the word and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.
If trouble comes when you least expect it then maybe the thing to do is to always expect it.
Perhaps in the world's destruction it would be possible at last to see how it was made. Oceans, mountains. The ponderous counterspectacle of things ceasing to be. The sweeping waste, hydroptic and coldly secular. The silence.
The breath of God was his breath yet though it pass from man to man through all of time.