I Believe That Every Human Being Is

The Deadliest Blow The Enemy Of The Human Soul Can Strike Is To Do Fury Honor. . . . Official Acceptance Is The One Unmistakable Symptom That Salvation Is Beaten Again, And Is The One Surest Sign Of Fatal Misunderstanding, And Is The Kiss Of Judas.

I Know I Am Making The Choice Most Dangerous To An Artist In Valuing Life Above Art.

I Suspect The Fault...is In Me: That I Hate Any Job On Earth, As A Job And A Hindrance And A Semi-suicide.

And Somewhat As In Blind Night, On A Mild Sea, A Sailor May Be Made Aware Of An Iceberg, Fanged And Mortal, Bearing Invisibly Near, By The Unwarned Charm Of Its Breath, Nothingness Now Revealed Itself: That Permanent Night Upon Which The Stars In Their Expiring Generations Are Less Than The Glinting Of Gnats, And Nebulae, More Trivial Than Winter Breath; That Darkness In Which Eternity Lies Bent And Pale, A Dead Snake In A Jar, And Infinity Is The Sparkling Of A Wren Blown Out To Sea; That Inconceivable Chasm Of Invulnerable Silence In Which Cataclysms Of Galaxies Rave Mute As Amber.

I Believe That Every Human Being Is Potentially Capable Within His 'limits' Of Fully 'realizing' His Potentialities; That This, His Being Cheated And Choked Of It, Is Infinitely The Ghastliest, Commonest, And Most Inclusive Of All The Crimes Of Which The Human World Can Assure Itself.