If one wanted to depict the whole thing graphically every episode with its climax would require a three-dimensional or rather no model every experience is unrepeatable. What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both of them times and spaces open different from measurable time and space.

The written word can make one pause and contemplate. It can make a reader sigh to dream or question a belief in considerable depth. But all of that is nothing if those words fail to touch the heart and make one feel.

Dare to imagine. Dare to be. Books are the seeds. Dreams are the soil. The fruit of the harvest a world reborn.

When reading the history of the Jewish people of their flight from slavery to death of their exchange of tyrants I must confess that my sympathies are all aroused in their behalf. They were cheated deceived and abused. Their god was quick-tempered unreasonable cruel revengeful and dishonest. He was always promising but never performed. He wasted time in ceremony and childish detail and in the exaggeration of what he had done. It is impossible for me to conceive of a character more utterly detestable than that of the Hebrew god. He had solemnly promised the Jews that he would take them from Egypt to a land flowing with milk and honey. He had led them to believe that in a little while their troubles would be over and that they would soon in the land of Canaan surrounded by their wives and little ones forget the stripes and tears of Egypt. After promising the poor wanderers again and again that he would lead them in safety to the promised land of joy and plenty this God forgetting every promise said to the wretches in his powerYour carcasses shall fall in this wilderness and your children shall wander until your carcasses be wasted. This curse was the conclusion of the whole matter. Into this dust of death and night faded all the promises of God. Into this rottenness of wandering despair fell all the dreams of liberty and home. Millions of corpses were left to rot in the desert and each one certified to the dishonesty of Jehovah. I cannot believe these things. They are so cruel and heartless that my blood is chilled and my sense of justice shocked. A book that is equally abhorrent to my head and heart cannot be accepted as a revelation from God.When we think of the poor Jews destroyed murdered bitten by serpents visited by plagues decimated by famine butchered by each other swallowed by the earth frightened cursed starved deceived robbed and outraged how thankful we should be that we are not the chosen people of God. No wonder that they longed for the slavery of Egypt and remembered with sorrow the unhappy day when they exchanged masters. Compared with Jehovah Pharaoh was a benefactor and the tyranny of Egypt was freedom to those who suffered the liberty of God.While reading the Pentateuch I am filled with indignation pity and horror. Nothing can be sadder than the history of the starved and frightened wretches who wandered over the desolate crags and sands of wilderness and desert the prey of famine sword and plague. Ignorant and superstitious to the last degree governed by falsehood plundered by hypocrisy they were the sport of priests and the food of fear. God was their greatest enemy and death their only friend.It is impossible to conceive of a more thoroughly despicable hateful and arrogant being than the Jewish god. He is without a redeeming feature. In the mythology of the world he has no parallel. He only is never touched by agony and tears. He delights only in blood and pain. Human affections are naught to him. He cares neither for love nor music beauty nor joy. A false friend an unjust judge a braggart hypocrite and tyrant sincere in hatred jealous vain and revengeful false in promise honest in curse suspicious ignorant and changeable infamous and hideoussuch is the God of the Pentateuch.

I have dreamed of that song of the strange words to that simple rhyme-song and on several occasions I have understood what she was saying in my dreams. In those dreams I spoke that language too the first language and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. In my dream it was the tongue of what is and anything spoken in it becomes real because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick og everything. In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say in that tongue Be whole. and they would become whole not be broken people not any longer because I had spoken the language of shaping.

Reading is a beautiful prayer for knowledge.

A Writer is Actor Creator Director Producer Of HIS Life. Ask ME anything.

We read in bed because reading is halfway between life and dreaming our own consciousness in someone elses mind.

Some like to sleep. Some like to read late into the night without catching a wink. In a world of dreamers both are essential.

I had a dream about you. You were writing a book and I was reading a book. The problem was it was the same book. So while you were trying to write I sat next to you yelling at you to write faster because I am a speed reader. Seriously can you only type 1000 words per minute You slowed down my reading so much you made me feel like I had a second-grade reading level. Also you really should learn how to use a comma. Oh and one more thing. Its not a love story if theres only one character in the book. Not unless I am that character.