Love. His love for Cathy and the kids. That had been one of his protective mantras, he was certain, except love just made things crueller, gave you so much more to lose.
It was always a bad sign when better-off types drew comparisons between unsightly ghetto populations and some animal or other, most especially those species that we had, reluctantly, to poison periodically. Why didn’t people keep their lame excuses to themselves? Mick.
His sister, in a big turquoise Angora sweater, leaned upon the wood frame of the open nursery door, anxiously looking out to see if he was really going to show, beaming and waving like a pastel colored TV Muppet when she spotted him.
Delightfully, however, even phrases of world-ending awesome fury, spoken through a split lip, were quite funny.
Seymour, we do not dignify absurdities with coverage. This is still America, god damnit! Who wants a cowboy actor in the White House?
These days, superhero comics think the audience is certainly not nine to 13, it’s nothing to do with them. It’s an audience largely of 30-, 40-, 50-, 60-year old men, usually men. Someone came up with the term graphic novel. These readers latched on to it; they were simply interested in a way that could validate their continued love of Green Lantern or Spider-Man without appearing in some way emotionally subnormal.
We’re saints and sinners both, the lot of us, or else there’s no saints and no sinners.
I find it difficult sometimes to read exploration as other than a euphemism for empire and exploitation. The.
It was as if life was one great big impersonal piece of machinery.
Behind gods, ghosts, and people squats the state, which asserts total access to both public and private space: the.
Meat movies... In which the horror rests with the idea of doing to humans what humans do each day to trees in their thousands.” “Yes, as a symbol... Close your eyes, Mrs. Cable. Close your eyes and shout ‘timber’.
If gods are transcendent ideas, then the idea of a god IS a god.
Justice be above the Street, for lightnings mark our transit and the corners of Eternity are opened. This.
I no longer wish to look at dead things.
If somebody asked why you weren’t seeking work, you could explain that you were already employed as an archaic mental.
Truly, life is hell and death’s rough hand our only deliverance.
This had been before the war on drugs, of course, when launching military campaigns against abstract emotions or inanimate materials would have been seen as the behaviour of highly-strung and over-reaching Daleks.
Why, Aza Chorn is dead. Just dead. About his monument, the ghosts parade. The zephyrs shriek and howl and tear apart the clouds, rail uselessly at death and in frustration snatch up blossoms shaped like human lips, and fling them like blood-red confetti from Olympus to those mortal pastures far below, a rain of angry kisses showering down upon those tiny, distant lives...
Crazed with helplessness, I cursed God and wept, wondering if He wept also. But then, what use are His tears, if His help was denied me?
In my opinion, the existence of life is a highly overrated phenomenon.