Ah, But You See, I Didn't Want

I Only Wish The Poets Would Say This Too: Love Is Of The Body; Not The Body, But Of The The Body. Ah! The Misery That Would Be Saved If We Confessed That! Ah! For A Little Directness To Liberate The Soul!

We Are All Like Scheherazade's Husband, In That We Want To Know What Happens Next.

Only People Who Have Been Allowed To Practise Freedom Can Have The Grown-up Look In Their Eyes.

If God Could Tell The Story Of The Universe, The Universe Would Become Fictitious.

Our Final Experience, Like Our First, Is Conjectural. We Move Between Two Darkness's.