Sanity Is A Compromise.

Every Man And Every Woman Is A Star.

Dreams Are Imperfections Of Sleep; Even So Is Consciousness The Imperfection Of Waking. Dreams Are Impurities In The Circulation Of The Blood; Even So It's Consciousness A Disorder Of Life. Dreams Are Without Proportion, Without Good Sense, Without Truth; So Also Is Consciousness. Awake From Dream, The Truth Is Known: Awake From Waking. The Truth Is: The Unknown

To Knot A Sentence Up Properly, It Has To Be Thought Out Carefully, And Revised. New Phrases Have To Be Put In; Sudden Changes Of Subject Must Be Introducted; Verbs Must Be Shifted To Unsuspected Localities; Short Words Must Be Excised With Ruthless Hand; Archaisms Must Be Sprinkled Like Sugar-plums Upon The Concoction; The Fatal Human Tendency To Say Things Straightforwardly Must Be Detected And Defeated By Adroit Reversals; And, If A Glimmer Of Meaning Yet Remain Under Close Scrutiny, It Must Be Removed By Replacing All The Principal Verbs By Paraphrases In Some Dead Language.

I Have Never Grown Out Of The Infantile Belief That The Universe Was Made For Me To Suck.

I Am The Blue-lidded Daughter Of Sunset; I Am The Naked Brilliance Of The Voluptuous Night-sky.