Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you.
I command treasuries of wind.
God will say to me, the dust:
"Why have you forgotten me?
Why do you go mourning,
Oppressed by the foe?"
If you want to become what you ought to be,
Then you better learn to fear your misanthropy.
Sleep through your dreams, and you will wake up to your nightmares.
I want the kingdom of God, not Augustine's seed.
Truly there is no use in crying over spilled milk.
Wait for some things. But for other things, never wait for them again. You are not one in waiting.
Proof is not enough. You must transubstantiate your claim.
Pirate! Whose song are you singing?
"Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!"
It will be done, friend; only sing also for your prey, for you are hunting yourself.
You are not a writer. You are a spy, a mail thief, an interceptor of messages that creative genius intended for other eyes, ears, and minds to receive. The least you can do is become an excellent thief.
"And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?"
Look for the cornerstone, and you will know.
Another night on your own
No urge to go home
Your friends are strangers on the way
On a fast red line
To pull you
Bearing your burdens
Always singing your way into abstractions
Talking about God
Speaking to no God
It's colder than the summer ought to be
I've lost the magic left in me.
