My Mistake Was In Ever

Not All The Monsters Have Fangs.

But Especially He Loved To Run In The Dim Twilight Of The Summer Midnights, Listening To The Subdued And Sleepy Murmurs Of The Forest, Reading Signs And Sounds As A Man May Read A Book, And Seeking For The Mysterious Something That Called -- Called, Waking Or Sleeping, At All Times, For Him To Come.

He Was A Silent Fury Who No Torment Could Tame.

Man Is A Flux Of States Of Consciousness, A Flow Of Passing Thoughts, Each Thought Of Self Another Self, A Myriad Thoughts, A Myriad Selves, A Continual Becoming But Never Being, A Will-of-the-wisp Flitting Of Ghosts In Ghostland.

A Man With A Club Is A Law-maker.