It Is Not Love That Is Blind,

It's Unthinkable Not To Love - You'd Have A Severe Nervous Breakdown. Or You'd Have To Be Philip Larkin.

These Are The Moments Which Are Not Calculable, And Cannot Be Assessed In Words; They Live On In The Solution Of Memory, Like Wonderful Creatures, Unique Of Their Own Kind, Dredged Up From The Floors Of Some Unexplored Ocean.

Truth Disappears With The Telling Of It.

The Heaviest Impact Of The Work Of Art Is In The Guts. Art Does Not Reason. It Manhandles You And Changes You.

Try And Travel With The Eyes Of The Spirit Wide Open, And Not Too Much Factual Information. To Tune In, Without Reverence, Idly -- But With Real Inward Attention. It Is To Be Had For The Feeling, That Mysterious Sense Of Rapport, Of Identity With The Ground. You Can Extract The Essence Of A Place Once You Know How. If You Just Get As Still As A Needle You'll Be There.