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(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole piece!)
The whole question of authority was raised anew: Who gave anyone the right to define a canon? Soon there were as many churches as believers, and everyone was Pope. Harold Bloom was il Papa di tutti i Papi, Pope of all the Popes.
Paul J. Sampson
One would think she'd be use to it by now. The band aid rudely ripped. Hair torn. And the blood, at first in tiny spots from pores, forever forming pools and marshes and swamps. But each time is as the first. And there has never been a time before the first. Love's betrayal is originary. It's called birth.
Stanley Jenkins
