Art, Of Course, Is A Way Of

Art, Of Course, Is A Way Of Thinking, A Way Of Mining Reality.

Talking, Talking. Spinning A Web Of Words, Pale Walls Of Dreams, Between Myself And All I See.

I Know Everything, You See,' The Old Voice Wheedled. 'the Beginning, The Present, The End. Everything. You Now, You See The Past And The Present, Like Other Low Creatures: No Higher Faculties Than Memory And Perception. But Dragons, My Boy, Have A Whole Different Kind Of Mind.' He Stretched His Mouth In A Kind Of Smile, No Trace Of Pleasure In It. 'we Are From The Mountaintop: All Time, All Space. We See In One Instant The Passionate Vision And The Blowout.

People Will Tell You That Writing Is Too Difficult, That It's Impossible To Get Your Work Published, That You Might As Well Hang Yourself. Meanwhile, They'll Keep Writing And You'll Have Hanged Yourself.

There Is No Limit To Desire But Desire's Needs.