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: Why can't I be good? Why can't I act like a man? Why can't I act like other men can? Lou Reed
: If I knew, I would tell you. Hang in there.
: Have you heard the prophecy? "In the Year of Hate, when all that is foreign is despised, dark riders will enter the harbor, seize the ship and everyone on it and sail them straight into hell" Cassiel
: I know all prophecy, but not this one. You made it up. Emit Flesti
: What's the difference? It just happened.
: Each one creates his own world within his own vision and hearing. He remains a prisoner in it. And from his cell he sees the cells of others.
: Fucking gravity!
: To smell the air. Seth
: Taste water. Cassiel
: Read a newspaper. Seth
: To lie. Cassiel
: Through your teeth. To feed the dog. Seth
: Touch her hair. Cassiel
: What are you waiting for?
: The little girl asked me if she could be an angel. Cassiel
: They all want wings. Seth
: I never know what to say. Cassiel
: Tell them the truth. Angels aren't human. We were never human. Seth
: What if I just make her a little pair of wings out of paper?
: I can't see you but I know you're there. Seth
: [Cassiel appears
] Am I being punished? Cassiel
: Come on, you know better than that.
: It's great to live by the spirit, to testify day by day for eternity, only what's spiritual in people's minds. But sometimes I'm fed up with my spiritual existence. Instead of forever hovering above I'd like to feel a weight grow in me to end the infinity and to tie me to earth. I'd like, at each step, each gust of wind, to be able to say "Now." Now and now" and no longer "forever" and "for eternity." To sit at an empty place at a card table and be greeted, even by a nod. Every time we participated, it was a pretense. Wrestling with one, allowing a hip to be put out in pretense, catching a fish in pretense, in pretense sitting at tables, drinking and eating in pretense. Having lambs roasted and wine served in the tents out there in the desert, only in pretense. No, I don't have to beget a child or plant a tree but it would be rather nice coming home after a long day to feed the cat, like Philip Marlowe, to have a fever and blackended fingers from the newspaper, to be excited not only by the mind but, at last, by a meal, by the line of a neck by an ear. To lie! Through one's teeth. As you're walking, to feel your bones moving along. At last to guess, instead of always knowing. To be able to say "ah" and "oh" and "hey" instead of "yea" and "amen." Cassiel
: Yeah, to be able, once in a while, to enthuse for evil. To draw all the demons of the earth from passers-by and to chase them out into the world. To be a savage. Damiel
: Or at last to feel how it is to take off shoes under a table and wriggle your toes barefoot, like that. Cassiel
: Stay alone! Let things happen! Keep serious! We can only be savages in as much as we keep serious. Do no more than look! Assemble, testify, preserve! Remain spirit! Keep your distance. Keep your word.