A Story, To Me, Has

After Modernism, Things Changed. Indeed, Modernism Sometimes Seems To Me Like An Equivalent Of The Fall. Remember, The First Thing Adam And Eve Did When They Ate The Fruit Was To Discover That They Had No Clothes On. They Were Embarrassed. Embarrassment Was The First Consequence Of The Fall. And Embarrassment Was The First Literary Consequence Of This Modernist Discovery Of The Surface. "am I Telling A Story? Oh My God, This Is Terrible. I Must Stop Telling A Story And Focus On The Minute Gradations Of Consciousness As They Filter Through Somebody's.

For Every Once Upon A Time There Must Be A Story To Follow, Because If A Story Doesn't, Something Else Will, And It Might Not Be As Harmless As A Story.

Religion Begins In Story. Yes, It Does, Because Religion Is An Attempt To Make Sense Of What Is Incomprehensible To Us, What Is Inexplicable, What Is Awe-inspiring, What Is Frightening, What Moves Us To Great Wonder, And So On. That Is The Religious Impulse, And It Is Part Of Our Psychological Makeup -- Of Everyone's Psychological Makeup.

The Sight Filled The Northern Sky; The Immensity Of It Was Scarcely Conceivable. As If From Heaven Itself, Great Curtains Of Delicate Light Hung And Trembled. Pale Green And Rose-pink, And As Transparent As The Most Fragile Fabric, And At The Bottom Edge A Profound Fiery Crimson Like The Fires Of Hell, They Swung And Shimmered Loosely With More Grace Than The Most Skillful Dancer.

...when All The Openings Were Closed, Then The Worlds Would All Be Restored To Their Proper Relations With One Another, Lyra’s Oxford And Will’s Would Lie Over Each Other Again, Like Transparent Images On Two Sheets Of Film Being Moved Closer And Closer Until They Merged–although They Would Never Truly Touch.