The Artist Is Not A Man Who

Knowledge Is A Polite Word For Dead But Not Buried Imagination.

Seeker Of Truth Follow No Path All Paths Lead Where Truth Is Here.

The Snow Doesn't Give A Soft White Damn Whom It Touches.

A Bouquet Of Clumsy Words: You Know That Place Between Sleep And Awake Where You're Still Dreaming But It's Slowly Slipping? I Wish We Could Feel Like That More Often. I Also Wish I Could Click My Fingers Three Times And Be Transported To Anywhere I Like. I Wish That People Didn't Always Say 'just Wondering' When You Both Know There Was A Real Reason Behind Them Asking. And I Wish I Could Get Lost In The Stars. Listen, There's A Hell Of A Good Universe Next Door, Let's Go.

Nothing Which We Are To Perceive In This World Equals The Power Of Your Intense Fragility