Heaven is an idea constructed by man to help him cope with the fact that life on earth is both brutally short and, paradoxically, far too long.
If you listen to the wind very carefully, you'll be able to hear me whisper my love for you.
There's a gentle sigh which descends like billowing silk upon the soul that accepts its coming death. It's a gentle pocket of air in the turbulence of everyday life... the silk settles around you as if it has been drifting towards the earth forever and has finally found it's target. The flag of defeat has been mercifully dropped and, in this action, the loss is not so bad. Defeat itself is defeated by the embrace of defeat, and death is swallowed up in victory.
β¦She kissed me on my thin lips and all my words were pushed back into my mouth. βI donβt want to die,β she whispered, βbut I need to lose the shackles of this multitude of hearts.
There I lay, wearing dead people as armor against death.
You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.