Thomas Kinkade Key West

Thomas Kinkade Key WestThomas Kinkade GracelandThomas Kinkade Fisherman's Wharf
failure and passage. Truly now those paradoxes became paroxysms: I shut my eyes, swayed on Croaker's shoulders, trembled and sweated. All things converged: I understood what I had done to Dr. Eierkopf with my innocent question about paleoooontological priority. That circular device on my Assignment-sheet --



beginningless, endless, infinite equivalence -- constricted my reason like a torture-tool from the Age of Faith. Passagewas Failure, and Failure Passage; yet Passage was Passage, Failure Failure! Equally true, none was the Answer; the two were not different, neither were they the same; andtrue andfalse, andsame anddifferent -- unspeakable! Unnamable! Unimaginable! Surely my mind must crack!
"What is it?" Greene asked. "What's going on, Leo?"
"I can't see, classmate."
The troopers murmured at my strange countenance and behavior; Croaker rumbled, feeling my thigh-grip on his neck, and stood up in the sidecar.
"Don't try to get loose!" No doubt it was Leonid Stoker warned, but his words