My Only Two Weapons: Time And Silence.

The Urban Man Is An Uprooted Tree, He Can Put Out Leaves, Flowers And Grow Fruit But What A Nostalgia His Leaf, Flower, And Fruit Will Always Have For Mother Earth!

Some Of My Affectionate Envious Friends Say, "you Write Too Much." Maybe, I Answer. But As Long As The Best Of Your Little Is Worse Than The Worst Of My Much, I Will Keep On Doing So.

To Live Is Nothing More Than To Come Here To Die, To Be What We Were Before Being Born, But With Apprenticeship, Experience, Knowledge Of Cause, And Perhaps With Will.

Back Of My Forehead I Feel Tonight A Whole Sky Full Of Stars. Under A Western Moon. Life Is Indeed Lovely!

A Fantasy Can Be Equivalent To A Paradise And If The Fantasy Passes, Better Yet, Because Eternal Paradise Would Be Very Boring.