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Quote by George Witte

“No photograph records that day's unmaking roar. Things ripped from skins, words from definitions. Letters distilled until incomprehensible, whistles, clicks, thrummed dipthongs an underwater song too deep for human ears. From "Uh-Oh”

Quote by George Witte

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Deniability

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George Witte

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“7 Angry Men A few gentlemen, occupy a room They laugh and talk and gossip and croon Whatever they do, they do in unison Until it was time to leave, for the night is done The first agonized, with rain but no cover The second agathed over the fallen quarter The third in a hurry, stubbed his toe The shriek he incurred, woke those below The fourth, drunk enough, walked but failed The fifth, nonchalant about his car being towed The sixth, why, he can't leave Until everyone is gone, and hands over the keys! Seven angry men, They reside in a room Last one, you ask? Ah, beware - it might just be you”

“And what of the dead? I own that I thought of myself, at times, almost as dead. Are they not locked below ground in chambers smaller than mine was, in their millions of millions? There is no category of human activity in which the dead do not outnumber the living many times over. Most beautiful children are dead. Most soldiers, most cowards. The fairest women and the most learned men – all are dead. Their bodies repose in caskets, in sarcophagi, beneath arches of rude stone, everywhere under the earth. Their spirits haunt our minds, ears pressed to the bones of our foreheads. Who can say how intently they listen as we speak, or for what word?”

“THE EYE OF TIME The eye of time has witnessed countless spectacles, Every joy bound to wounds, a profound connection tangible. Dreams extinguished in silence, unseen by all, Desires crumbling as wishes at their side would fall. Time played its games in the theater of existence, Love defeated, while hatred found persistence. Hearts became desolate in mere moments, Helplessness weeping at the doorstep of life's torments. The eye of time could never grasp this mystery, Why behind every smile lurks sorrow's misery. Yet this heart, for centuries, has asked again, Why does darkness follow when light remains?”

“The Winter Miles The roads of solitude grow whiter,
And stones beneath us paler,
While the green fades completely —
Ahead of us. Grey is the sombre tone we keep,
While wandering along the street
That becomes our destiny —
With each step. Our knees fall into the snow; The trembling stops at last, Here our souls will find eternal rest — In silent grace. -Laura Chouette”

“Christmas Hyacinths The air grows cleaner with each sight
Of words - silver and clear -
Without heaviness and sighs. Winter closes in on each street,
That familiar place we haunted to keep,
While we hope to seek the dearest near. Frozen blossoms in trembling hands,
With shadows of blue and grey,
Counting footsteps back into the heat. The emptiness of many
Is returned in ink and choirs,
With doubt and cherish,
Crowned with blessings all around.”