Memory Is A Great Betrayer.

I Love Man As Creator, Lover, Husband, Friend, But Man The Father I Do Not Trust. I Do Not Believe In Man As Father. I Do Not Trust Man As Father.

We Don't Have A Language For The Senses. Feelings Are Images, Sensations Are Like Musical Sounds.

I Did Not Feel Drawn To Huxley. He Was Beautiful Physically But Again Without Vibrations Or Sensory Antennae... And I Had A Painful Impression Of A Psychic Blindness. With All His Science And Knowledge, In The Mystic World He Blundered.

He Does Not Need Opium. He Has The Gift Of Reverie.

I Prefer Empty Cages, Sabina, Until I Find A Unique Bird I Once Saw In My Dreams.