Art Is What Remains Of Religion: The

Man, Even Man Debased By The Neocapitalism And Pseudosocialism Of Our Time, Is A Marvelous Being Because He Sometimes Speaks. Language Is The Mark, The Sign, Not Of His Fall But Of His Original Innocence. Through The Word We May Regain The Lost Kingdom And Recover Powers We Possessed In The Far-distant Past.

Solitude Is The Profoundest Fact Of The Human Condition. Man Is The Only Being Who Knows He Is Alone, And The Only One Who Seeks Out Another. His Nature - If That Word Can Be Used In Reference To Man, Who Has ‘invented’ Himself By Saying ‘no’ To Nature - Consists In His Longing To Realize Himself In Another. Man Is Nostalgia And A Search For Communion. Therefore, When He Is Aware Of Himself He Is Aware Of His Lack Of Another, That Is, Of His Solitude.

When A Society Decays, It Is Language That Is First To Become Gangrenous. As A Result, Social Criticism Begins With Grammar And The Re-establishing Of Meanings

There Can Be No Society Without Poetry, But Society Can Never Be Realized As Poetry, It Is Never Poetic. Sometimes The Two Terms Seek To Break Apart. They Cannot.

The Beloved Is Already In Our Being, As Thirst And "otherness." Being Is Eroticism. Inspiration Is That Strange Voice That Takes Man Out Of Himself To Be Every Thing That He Is, Everything That He Desires; Another Body, Another Being. Beyond, Outside Of Me, In The Green And Gold Thicket, Among The Tremulous Branches, Sings The Unknown. It Calls To Me.