“We were germs, it said, or we were dust.”

“He would always, always live in this terrible Coventry where old gods went to die; gods who would never speak to him; and with no hope of return.”
“We were germs, it said, or we were dust.”
“One hundred-forty characters lay dead and buried. It was as good as over.”
“Old and forgotten theatre curses slither and skitter through the frenzied carnage...”
“The walls crawl home to the quarry, the keyboard now a wave of carbons and electrons flittering in the chill air.”
“The resplendent song of the dawn chorus died a quiet death.”
“The bones of this land are a conduit to a thing we cannot name; primal and endless, without beginning or end.”
“It had been The Devil himself who had stood in the place of that curious dog, atop a burning pyre the very shade of a weeping willow in Spring, his sly grin like an open vent, and out did spill a damnation song with it's fill of utter loathing.”
“It must have been somewhere during this bitter tumble down The Tree of Life when Larry lost all hope. So he drank. And he drank. And he drank. Poor Larry.”
“The woman on the black sands was both alone and amongst an entire legion, her myth rode along beside her as she had been as a child, who in turn stood hand in hand with the woman as she had been on her wedding day, whilst others glittered a strange silver and others soared high above in the cloudless sky. Each and every possible outcome for that woman was there, together as one. The feather had yet to fall.”
“Sic transit gloria mundi.”