The Flux Of Life Is Pouring Its

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

Die In The Past. Live In The Future.

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

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.

Fling Yourself At Life And Let Yourself Feel What You Do Feel Upon The Very Tick Of The Second; Snatch The Images Of Life That Fly Through The Brain. If You Are Very Frank With Yourself And Don't Mind How Ridiculous Anything That Comes To You May Seem, You Will Have A Chance Of Capturing The Symbols Of Your Direct Reactions. Thus, You Will, Perhaps, Find Yourself Reaching A Heightened Sense Of Awareness Completely Outside The Realm Of Mundane Experience.