Wolves Don't Hunt Singly, But Always In

Medieval Theologians Used To Dispute How The Angels In The Heaven Spent Their Time, When Not Balancing On Needle Points And Singing Anthems To The Lord. I Know. They Slump Glued To Their Clouds, Glasses At The Ready, As The Archangel Micheal (that Well-known Slasher) And Stonewalling St Peter Open Against The Devils Xi. It Could Not Be Heaven, Otherwise.

We Talked For Hours. He Talked And I Listened. It Was Like Wind And Sunlight. It Blew All The Cobwebs Away.

Duty Is But A Pot. It Holds Whatever Is Put In It, From The Greatest Evil To The Greatest Good.

I Am Infinitely Strange To Myself.

Stained Glass, Engraved Glass, Frosted Glass; Give Me Plain Glass.