Other-love Is Writing's First Name.

You Only Have To Look At The Medusa Straight On To See Her. And She's Not Deadly. She's Beautiful And She's Laughing.

Thinking Is Trying To Think The Unthinkable: Thinking The Thinkable Is Not Worth The Effort.

If My Desire Is Possible, It Means The System Is Already Letting Something Else Through.

Meditation Needs No Results. Meditation Can Have Itself As An End, I Meditate Without Words And On Nothingness. What Tangles My Life Is Writing.

She Alone Dares And Wishes To Know From Within, Where She, The Outcast, Has Never Ceased To Hear The Resonance Of Fore Language. She Lets The Other Language Speak - The Language Of 1,000 Tongues Which Knows Neither Enclosure Nor Death. To Life She Refuses Nothing. Her Language Does Not Contain, It Carries; It Does Not Hold Back; It Makes Possible.