Imagine A Painter Crucified By His Subject!

Life Is Not At All What You Might Think It To Be A Simple Tale Where Each Thing Has Its History It's Much More Than Its Scuffle And Anything Goes Both Evil And Good, Subject To The Same Laws.

The Soul Establishes Itself. But How Far Can It Swim Out Through The Eyes And Still Return Safely To Its Nest?

... The First Step Of The Terrible Journey Toward Feeling Somebody Should Act, That Ends In Utter Confusion And Hopelessness, East Of The Sun And West Of The Moon.

Death Is A New Office Building Filled With Modern Furniture, A Wise Thing, But Which Has No Purpose For Us.

Therefore Bivouac We On This Great, Blond Highway, Unimpeded By Veiled Scruples, Worn Conundrums. Morning Is Impermanent. Grab Sex Things, Swing Up Over The Horizon Like A Boy On A Fishing Expedition.