Life, The Permission To Know Death.

And Must I, Perchance, Like Careful Writers, Guard Myself Against The Conclusions Of My Readers?

The Night Is A Skin Pulled Over The Head Of Day That The Day May Be In Torment.

Yes, We Who Are Full To The Gorge With Misery Should Look Well Around, Doubting Everything Seen, Done, Spoken, Precisely Because We Have A Word For It, And Not Its Alchemy

No One Will Be Much Or Little Except In Someone Else's Mind, So Be Careful Of The Minds You Get Into.

I Like My Human Experience Served Up With A Little Silence And Restraint. Silence Makes Experience Go Further And, When It Does Die, Gives It That Dignity Common To A Thing One Had Touched And Not Ravished