We all have endlessness to our thoughts yet we starve our brain. The brain's relentless cry for knowledge that echoes in the hallways in our heads is not given listening. This is why many authors tend to be prosaic writers.

It was all very purposeful and sad when Anthony told Gloria one night that he wanted, above all things, to be killed. But, as always, they were sorry for each other for the wrong things at the wrong time...

In the name of Annah the Allmaziful, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven!

Written By James Joyce

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