Life Is A Stream On Which We

You Are Ice And Fire The Touch Of You Burns My Hands Like Snow.

Art Is Like Politics. Any Theory Carried Too Far Ends In Sterility, And Freshness Is Only Gained By Following Some Other Line.

Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose.

Sexual Love Is The Most Stupendous Fact Of The Universe, And The Most Magical Mystery Our Poor Blind Senses Know.

How Hard, How Desperately Hard, Is The Way Of The Experimenter In Art!