Without Mind there are only meaningless electrons whirling in whateverness. Not even so much as that, for it is Mind that identifies the meaningless whateverness and cries out, Electrons!
Electrons!
The ems and ens at the beginnings and ends.
He was intolerable now except under the influence of liquor, and as he seemed to decay and coarsen under her eyes, Gloria's soul and body shrank away from him […]
The snow burst through the trees with no warning but a last-second whoosh of sound, a two-story wall of white and Chris Rudolph’s piercing cry: “Avalanche! Elyse!”
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