mother in the sky with diamonds (a source of innocent merriment)

she waits for all men born
last night and every night
and i awoke and found me here on the cold hill's side
the snows are melted, the snows are gone
all this and heaven too

her smoke rose up forever
with delicate mad hands
and i have come upon this place by lost ways
we who stole the dream

your faces, o my sisters! your faces filled of light!
backward, turn backward
come live with me
love is the plan the plan is death
and so on, and so on

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with science fiction but poetry.

the science of slipping

STEPHANE: [Hands a book] With this you'll know dirty realism.

STÉPHANIE: Isn't reality already dirty?

STEPHANE: Yeah but, come on.

mathoms from the time closet

"Did you hear?"

"Wha--?"

"Goethe is remaking Faust."

"Fuck no!"

"Yes he is."

"What the fuck is the bastard thinking? Another remake? This is the end of days, I'm telling you."

ms. found in a napkin

But the best evidence we have that time travel is not possible, and never will be, is that the wheel hasn't been patented.

—Douglas Adams, ca. 2002