I Am Of The Order Whose Purpose

One Can Be Absolutely Truthful And Sincere Even Though Admittedly The Most Outrageous Liar. Fiction And Invention Are Of The Very Fabric Of Life.

Art Is Only A Means To Life, The Life More Abundant. It Merely Points The Way.

We Are Swimming On The Face Of Time And All Else Has Drowned, Is Drowning, Or Will Drown.

My World Of Human Beings Had Perished. I Was Utterly Alone In The World And For Friends I Had The Streets, And The Streets Spoke To Me In That Sad, Bitter Language Compounded Of Human Misery, Yearning, Regret, Failure, Wasted Effort

I Made Up My Mind That I Would Hold Onto Nothing, That I Would Expect Nothing.