“Humming softly with the child asleep in his arms, Sardus Swift looked to the winking stars and saw the moon - a smirk on the face of heaven - as he made his way home.”

“When?' said the moon to the stars in the skySoon' said the wind that followed them allWho?' said the cloud that started to cryMe' said the rider as dry as a boneHow?' said the sun that melted the groundand 'Why?' said the river that refused to runand 'Where?' said the thunder without a soundHere' said the rider and took up his gunNo' said the stars to the moon in the skyNo' said the trees that started to moanNo' said the dust that blunted its eyesYes' said the rider as white as a boneNo' said the moon that rose from his sleepNo' said the cry of the dying sunNo' said the planet as it started to weepYes' said the rider and laid down his gun”

“Through these days Bunny made increasingly frequent and protracted visits to the bathroom, beating off with a single-minded savagery intense even by Bunny's standards. Now, sitting on the sofa with a large Scotch, his cock feels and looks like something that has been involved in a terrible accident - a cartoon hotdog, maybe, that has made an unsuccessful attempt to cross a busy road.The boy sits beside him and the two of them are locked in a parenthesis of mutual zonkedness. Bunny Junior stares blankly at the encyclopedia open in his lap. His father watches the television, smokes his fag and drinks his whisky, like an automaton. After a time, Bunny turns his head and looks at his son and clocks the way he stares at his weird encyclopedia. He sees him but he can't really believe he is there. What does this kid want? What is he supposed to do with him? Who is he? Bunny feels like an extinct volcano, lifeless and paralysed. Yeah, he thinks, I feel like an extinct volcano - with a weird little kid to look after and a mangled sausage for a dick.”

“Then he smiles because he knows deep in his bones that his dad has gone and said something really funny probably. He kicks off his sheet and slides his feet into his slippers. Bunny sits in the living room, slumped low on the sofa, full of Geoffrey's Scotch and Poodle's cocaine.”

“Found in a small stone cave bitten from the roadside, stitchless save for his great outsized boots and a plague of flies, fat on the human scrappage of dinners long past, Toad squatted in the slitted stomach of a warm child, eating loudly the face of her hapless, headless father, who sat a good foot off the ground impaled up the ass on a pointed post.”

“God has matured. He is not the impulsive, bowel-less being of the Testaments - the vehement glory-monger, with His bag of cheap carny tricks and his booming voice - the fiery huckster with his burning bushes and his wonder wands. Nowadays God knows what He wants and He knows who He wants.”

“I don't believe in an interventionist GodBut I know, darling, that you doBut if I did I would kneel down and ask HimNot to intervene when it came to youNot to touch a hair on your headTo leave you as you areAnd if He felt He had to direct youThen direct you into my armsInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my armsAnd I don't believe in the existence of angelsBut looking at you I wonder if that's trueBut if I did I would summon them togetherAnd ask them to watch over youTo each burn a candle for youTo make bright and clear your pathAnd to walk, like Christ, in grace and loveAnd guide you into my armsInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my armsAnd I believe in LoveAnd I know that you do tooAnd I believe in some kind of pathThat we can walk down, me and youSo keep your candlew burningAnd make her journey bright and pureThat she will keep returningAlways and evermoreInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms”