‘King’ James Malley: Revelation

By | 1 December 2010

The modern hero, the modern individual who dares to heed
the call and seek the mansion of that presence with whom it is
our whole destiny to be atoned, cannot, indeed must not, wait for
his community to cast of its slough of pride, fear, rationalized
avarice, and sanctified misunderstanding. “Live,” Nietzsche says,
“as though the day were here.” It is not society that is to guide and
save the creative hero, but precisely the reverse. And so every one
of us shares the supreme ordeal–carries the cross of the redeemer
–not in the bright moments of his tribe’s great victories, but in
the silences of his personal despair.
‘Thank goodness!’ said Bilbo laughing, and handed him
the tobacco-jar.
He turned from me and walked away. I watched his back
receding down the long, gleaming hall.
, and
guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into
the room.
they went
inside the big old house whose door stood open, pressed back
by the breeze they made in passing.
You don’t see things or people, you see space –
the winch between two branches. You live in
the winch between two branches. Something spoke,
you answered. And you don’t know what, or when.
And the twelfth stroke of midnight sounded; the twelfth
stroke of midnight, Thursday, the eleventh of October, Nineteen
hundred and Twenty Eight.
It was at the bottom of the alley with its roots in the air.
“I only tell people once,” the man said and left the window.
would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem
waked up in the morning.
P.S. That night in the emergency room, do you recall if I threw up
something I needed? Some small but trivial thing that belonged
inside? I distinctly feel as though I’m missing something.
But then, I always have.

LADY WINDERMERE [taking her husband’s hand]: Ah, you’re marrying
a very good woman!


reply only on the ethical plane. We shall devote to them a future work.


the pistol, and fired a bullet through his right

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