Poets Are The Mad Midwives To Reality.

Religion Seems To Have Always Offered Us That False Duality ... The Silences Of Infinite Space Or The Cozy Comfort Of Inner Certainty.

Pain And Darkness Have Been Our Lot Since The Fall Of Man. But There Must Be Some Hope That We Can Rise To A Higher Level ... That Consciousness Can Evolve To A Plane More Benevolent Than Its Counterpoint Of A Universe Hardwired To Indifference.

Words Were Like Objects, Making The Idea More Solid -- Less A Poisonous Gas And More A ... Cube Of Crystallized Thought.

Most Of Us Do Know We Have No Immortality. And When You've Found A Genius, Someone Who Has Already Purchased His Immortality In Musical Or Literary Terms, It's Maddening.

Its Hard To Die. Harder To Live