I am not a wine drinker.
But if you want me drunk,
Taste it first, bring it to me
And I will drink it.
For if you touch it with your lips,
It will not be easy to keep sober
Or escape the sweet cup-bearer,
For the cup ferries over a kiss from you
And tells me of the grace it had.
A TK rewriting from the Gutenberg version of Select Epigrams from the Greek by Machail
I know no pleasure like that of books, and I read very little. Books are introductions to dreams, and no introductions are necessary for one who freely and naturally enters into conversation with them. I’ve never been able to lose myself in a book; as I’m reading, the commentary of my intellect or imagination has always hindered the narrative flow. After a few minutes it’s I who am writing, and what I write is nowhere to be found.
These are the trade paper editions of the complete Sandman by Neil Gaiman:
Other related Morpheus titles:
See: Neilgaiman.com
In the Cult of Dionysios, after all the ecstatic dancing was concluded, the dancers finished off with an equally ecstatic frenzy of tearing apart and eating the raw flesh of a goat, small deer or other similar animal. Sparagmos is the ritual dismemberment or tearing apart of an animal, whereas omophagia is the act of eating raw flesh. This was a communion ceremony where the worshiper took in the raw nature of Dionysios. These rites were practiced up to the 5th century and well into Roman times.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.