That the human spirit is mortal, deathbound, that death does not befall our existence by accident or as a catastrophe, but that our existence, of its own nature, projects itself, with all its forces, unto its death — […]
There were still moments when she would halt suddenly, like an actor stranded in the middle of the stage, lines forgotten, staring goggle-eyed and making fish-mouths...Corpsing: that was the word.
Among indigenous and early peoples, the liminal state of dorveille (sleep-wake) is a time when you might stir and share dreams with whoever is available. […] Sometimes a whole poem or song is delivered within a dream or in that fluid in-between zone of sleep-wake, dorveille.
I prithee, Remember, I have done thee worthy service; Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served Without grudge or grumblings: […]
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