His words seemed as vacuous as empty space yet densely self-serving.
Rajnar Vajra, Her Scales Shine Like Music
- “‘Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill: An ye harm none, do what ye will.'”
- New post “Words, words, words… a meditation on meaning” by Beth Kimbell on her blog.
- “Come with flute and come with pipe! Am I not ripe? I, who wait and writhe and wrestle With air that hath no boughs to nestle My body, weary of empty clasp, Strong as a lion and sharp as an asp — Come, O come! I am numb With the lonely lust of devildom.”
- “Suddenly all the ordinary ambitions of life seemed empty and worthless. Time crumbles all; I must find durable material for building. I sought desperately for help, for light. I raided every library and bookshop in the University.”
- “THE king was silent. In the blazoned hall Shadows, more mute than at a funeral True mourners, waited, waited in the gloom; Waited to hear what child was in the womb Of his high thoughts. As dead men were we all; As dead men wait the trumpet in the tomb. The king was silent. Tense the high-strung air Must save itself by trembling–if it dare. Then a lone shudder ran across the space; Each man ashamed to see his fellow’s face, Each troubled and confused. He did not spare Our fear–he spake not yet a little space.”