The Feminist Movement As At Present Instituted

Die In The Past. Live In The Future.

Love Of Others Is The Appreciation Of One's Self.

Poetry Is Prose Bewitched, A Music Made Of Visual Thoughts, The Sound Of An Idea.

The Flux Of Life Is Pouring Its Aesthetic Aspect Into Your Eyes, Your Ears - And You Ignore It Because You Are Looking For Your Canons Of Beauty In Some Sort Of Frame Or Glass Case Or Tradition.

There Is No Space Or Time Only Intensity, And Tame Things Have No Immensity