I Always Cause Those Who Are Near

Order And Disorder, Form And Formless Must Have Profound Psychological Roots, Nervous Roots.

I Am A Book I Neither Wrote Nor Read.

Whence, If Ever, Shall Come The Actualityof A Voice Speaking The Mind's Knowing,the Sunlight Bright On The Green Windowshade,and The Self Articulate, Affectionate, And Flowing,ease, Warmth, Light, The Utter Showing,when In The White Bed All Things Are Made.

Major Writing Is To Say That Which Has Been Seen, So That It Need Never Be Said Again; So That Which Has Been Seen Increases, Changes In Reality, In Being.

How Could I Think The Brief Years Were Enough To Prove The Reality Of Endless Love?