The Memory Of Man Is As Old

Poetry Is What Happens When An Anxiety Meets A Technique.

Music Was Invented To Confirm Human Loneliness.

Let Us Define 'man' As A Poet Perpetually Conspiring Against Himself.

The Sense Of Truth No Matter How Subjective Is Necessary For The Experience Of Beauty.

I Have Been Thinking About The Girl I Met Last Night In The Mirror: Dark On The Marble-ivory White: Glossy Black Hair: Deep Suspiring Eyes In Which One's Glances Sink Because They Are Nervous, Curious, Turned To Sexual Curiosity.