One exhibits a certain hostility to new (to unexpected) ideas. Wantonness maybe? To preach perforce to miss the point entirely. Look up Heaven in a Babylonian dictionary and get back to us.
The pen lay on its side, the notes fell part way out of the bible. One doesn't subscribe to the many worlds theory, one feels for it in the dark, confident in its sustaining capacity. Water sounds below. And did I tell you about my plan to abolish unhappiness?
It was summer when we went to bed, fall when we woke up. The moon is still there, right above the maple tree. The comforter was on the floor and a light breeze stirred the open bible to Ecclesiastes. It's time for some eggs over easy, tea with cream, some cucumbers on the side.
But still, where are we going and how will we know? "Money didn't change a thing." The heliotropes came and went, leaving a stale perfume. We waited on trains, the way dogs wait on bones, and some people wait on the Lord.
I didn't want her to see what I wrote. The merits will absolve all of us since there was never any sin in the first place. I love apples, always have, and the bold harvester too! So now can we begin?