The Camera Is Just A Machine, Which

How Far We All Come. How Far We All Come Away From Ourselves. So Far, So Much Between, You Can Never Go Home Again. You Can Go Home, It's Good To Go Home, But You Never Really Get All The Way Home Again In Your Life. ... Whatever It Was And However Good It Was, It Wasn't What You Once Had Been, And Had Lost, And Could Never Have Again, And Once In A While, Once In A Long Time, You Remembered, And Knew How Far You Were Away, And It Hit You Hard Enough, That Little While It Lasted, To Break Your Heart.

...but You Are Too Much For Them: The Weak In Courage Are Strong In Cunning; And One By One, You Have Absorbed And Have Captured And Dishonored, And Have Distilled Of Your Deliverers The Most Ruinous Of All Poisons; People Hear Beethoven In Concert Halls, Or Over A Bridge Game, Or To Relax; Cézannes Are Hung On Walls, Reproduced, In Natural Wood Frames; Van Gogh Is The Man Who Cut Off His Ear And Whose Yellows Became Recently Popular In Window Decoration.

We Are Talking Now Of Summer Evenings In Knoxville, Tennessee, In The Time That I Lived There So Successfully Disguised To Myself As A Child.

You've Got To Bear It In Mind That Nobody That Ever Lived Is Specially Privileged; The Axe Can Fall At Any Moment, On Any Neck, Without Any Warning Or Any Regard For Justice.

Truth Lies Within A Little And Certain Compass, But Error Is Immense.