Shirt Occult Quotes

I've studied, alas, philosophy, law and medicine, recto and verso, and now I regret it, theology also, oh God, how hard I've slaved away, with what result? Poor foolish old man, I'm no whit wiser than when I began! I've got a Master of Arts degree, on top of that a PhD, for ten long years, around and about, upstairs, downstairs, in and out, I've led my students by the nose with what result? That nobody knows, or ever shall know, the tiniest crumb! Which is why I feel completely undone. Of course I'm cleverer than these stuffed shirts, these Doctors, M.A.s, scribes and priests, I'm not bothered by a doubt or a scruple, I'm not afraid of Hell or the Devil--but the consequence is, my mirth's all gone; no longer can I fool myself I'm able to teach anyone how to be better, love true worth; I've got no money or property, worldly honors or celebrity. A dog wouldn't put up with this life! Which is why I've turned to magic, seeking to know, by ways occult, from ghostly mouths spells difficult,

Abbie didn’t know what to make of this man Thomasine had convinced Brad to invite over for dinner. She spent most of the meal being alternately awed and itchingly curious. He was a real live Indian. On that point Thomasine had been emphatic. But except for his long, dark, braided hair (which unquestionably was an Indian touch), Charlie Moonlight didn’t look like any pictures she’d ever seen, and during the Indian phase that had preceded dinosaurs more than a year ago, Brad had buried her in books about Native Americans. He didn’t wear a loincloth or a deerskin coat; he was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. And he wore a watch. A digital watch, the same kind Daddy wore.

People are trying to get in?” “Sure. Just like that guy on the train. Curiosity seekers, freelance writers, photographers. It’s amazing. It’s barely been a day, Alice, and already the ghouls are descending. I figure by tomorrow someone’ll be selling T-shirts and souvenir beer mugs.

Snow Creek was punched into the hills and mountains by logging companies more than fifty years ago. After the spotted owl put a halt to things, Olympic, Weyerhaeuser and Puget Logging sold off parcels at bargain rates—because there were no public utilities like water or power or sewer. That was fine for the folks that decided they’d rather live in a lonely world of their own making than the cookie-cutter places they came from. Some were hippie types—at least by the looks of them. Beads, flannel shirts and jeans so dirty they could walk across town on their own. Others came to do things verboten in the outside world. Pot growers, mostly. Some were believers in the occult—or at least pretended to be. A writhing mass of naked people under the moon was something no one would ever see in suburbia where the nosey neighbors lived with 911 on speed dial.