Call the angels

Ours was not a happy home. My father was violent and hyper-religious. He beat me with his belt while I lay draped across what was always a perfectly made bed, pants and underwear puddled around my ankles. Two of my three siblings, a brother and a sister, killed themselves.

A voice said, “Call the angels.” And angels came—angels enough to revivify William Blake, angels seen and unseen, women angels, men angels, child angels, a whole dance of them.

Does a man live who is more loved?

The free man

The free man is unpredictable. (You can depend on that.)

He is not bound—not by tradition, convention, expectation, obligation, rule, belief or any other false necessity.

He lacks self-concern. He does not think about himself. There is, indeed, no self to think of.