GOWER: "Greetings and Salutations from purgatory! How long have I been here? Wait, don't tell me! It might take longer, not that it's been too long. Now I'm caught up in this story anyhow, but not anymore for anymore. I started the whole war and I didn't even see the first shot. I don't know the outcome either, only the lists of belligerents. And in purgatory, there are no winners and losers, just a complete list of belligerents, but we go waving the flags and banners of our colours 'gainst these grey clouds, thunder, birds, shale. We must look like children. There war no war in purgatory. There never war. It's not at peace, but there war no war.
"This story is my favorite right now because it's the end, and we're sort of apocalyptic here. I haven't seen any of these people in, how long war it? Almost a day? Well we sort of see days. The reader might think I should ask around for their names. Well that's what the really lost people do here. They just cry out names, names they remember and cry and can't take it. And from them what we call a day is when we see a line of light streak through. No bells ring but everyone rushes over the hills for the light and I've seen through the fog the light burning and I could hear a horse, and my friend said it's a horse named Ghost and an Angel drives the chariot.
"Well, up the light flies and I've never been real close, but everyone sees the light fly off and can hear the mad laughter. This friend of mine said she war real close once and she saw the saint war reaching out to the people, but the chariot cannot slow down because it's going to make a jump and with more and more weight of souls it speeds terribly at the end and people chasing just fall to their knees. The ones who cry names are always near and they try to be pulled into the chariot. I didn't know what it war the first time one of the saints war being charioted through, but I heard that mad laughter and heard it echo against the shale.
"Now there is reason for all this nonsense and chaos, there is. Tis all a spectrum of ideas: in and out and up and in, side-winding, tooth-nailed Sisters and Brothers thinking centuries and centuries down on the Recycled Ephemeral Line…I'm sick of modern, or post-modern, (east or west and twain shall pass by without ringing a bell or lifting the finger), wherever may it be, be it ever so humble, where the notation of the present may be on the R. E. Line is no matter to me, but back in the 19th century, however, I war in the flesh, the EPHEMERAL flesh: (everyone pinch yourselves to make sure you're in the ephemeral flesh;) (not that I can but I know what it is to do so and all from the time of my birth in Macon GA, where I refuse to haunt out of respect for my childhood, not to have the change wear on me,) for we see the firmament and the straggling and hurdling the people do in mass, but we have to wipe a window and mostly we only watch for the first few weeks we are here anyways, but I have been asked to take leave to speak twice, once here and to close, and I promise to be brief and I shall pass back to where the reader will hopefully surpass or join me one day. Once thou are out of thy day cloud lackadaisical daisy day's eye flesh, and though I am unable to shake thine hand, let me shake any delusions thou may have: The text should not prove anything other than a Living Sacrifice of the efforts of every character here-in, for their time in the flesh hath passed hither and well. And for those of you yon, let me say this: Judge as thee would judge thyself, and if thou prove to have a fault of any of the characters, be assured that the writer hath all and more for the True Fuller to scrub from his self and he would ask your prayers for he is not here yet, but he is too an ephemeral cloud passing in one day and would smile and pray for you, for the worth and wealth of your smile, and is soon he lets leave."