The Map Appears To Us More Real

It Is Only When Men Lose Their Contact With This Eternal Life-flame, And Become Merely Personal, Things In Themselves, Instead Ofthings Kindled In The Flame, That The Fight Between Man And Woman Begins.

A Woman Has To Live Her Life, Or Live To Repent Not Having Lived It.

Personality And Mind, Like Moustaches, Belong To A Certain Age. They Are A Deformity In A Child.... Leave His Sensibilities, His Emotions, His Spirit, And His Mind Severely Alone. There Is The Devil In Mothers, That They Must Provoke Personalresponse From Their Infants.

This Spring As It Comes Bursts Up In Bonfires Green, Wild Puffing Of Emerald Trees, And Flame-filled Bushes, Thorn-blossom Lifting In Wreaths Of Smoke Between Where The Wood Fumes Up And The Watery, Flickering Rushes. I Am Amazed At This Spring, This Conflagration Of Green Fires Lit On The Soil Of The Earth, This Blaze Of Growing, And Sparks That Puff In Wild Gyration, Faces Of People Streaming Across My Gaze.

For My Part, I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken. It Is So Lovely, Dawn-kaleidoscopic Within The Crack.