. . . Be Absolute Moderne.

Come From Forever, And You Will Go Everywhere.

I Have Stretched Ropes From Steeple To Steeple; Garlands From Window To Window; Golden Chains From Star To Star, And I Dance.

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

Now I Am An Outcast. I Loathe My Country. The Best Thing For Me Is A Drunken Sleep On The Beach.

Love...no Such Thing. Whatever It Is That Binds Families And Married Couples Together, That's Not Love. That's Stupidity Or Selfishness Or Fear. Love Doesn't Exist. Self Interest Exists, Attachment Based On Personal Gain Exists, Complacency Exists. But Not Love. Love Has To Be Reinvented, That’s Certain.