Beware Of The Community In Which Blasphemy

At The Very Smallest Wheel Of Our Reasoning It Is Possible For A Handful Of Questions To Break The Bank Of Our Answers.

My Philosophy Is Fundamentally Sad, But I'm Not A Sad Man, And I Don't Believe I Sadden Anyone Else.

In Order To Write Poetry, You Must First Invent A Poet Who Will Write It.

Has My Heart Gone To Sleep? Have The Beehives Of My Dreams Stopped Working, The Waterwheel Of The Mind Run Dry, Scoops Turning Empty, Only Shadow Inside? No, My Heart Is Not Asleep. It Is Awake, Wide Awake. Not Asleep, Not Dreaming— Its Eyes Are Opened Wide Watching Distant Signals, Listening On The Rim Of Vast Silence

Beyond Living And Dreaming There Is Something More Important: Waking Up.