The Sensual Mysticism Of Entire Vertical Being.

You Have Played, (i Think) And Broke The Toys You Were Fondest Of, And Are A Little Tired Now; Tired Of Things That Break, And— Just Tired. So Am I.

Seeming's Enough For Slaves Of Space And Time - Ours Is The Now And Here Of Freedom. Come.

Progress Is A Comfortable Disease.

Because It's Spring Things Dare To Do People (& Not The Other Way Round)because It 's A Pril Lives Lead Their Own Persons(in Stead Of Everybodyelse's)but What's Wholly Marvellous My Darling Is That You & I Are More Than You & I(be Ca Us E It's We)

Art Is A Mystery. A Mystery Is Something Immeasurable.