The Viable Jewels Of Life Remain Untouched

Through The Lack Of Attaching Myself To Words, My Thoughts Remain Nebulous Most Of The Time. They Sketch Vague, Pleasant Shapes And Then Are Swallowed Up; I Forget Them Almost Immediately.

Criticism Often Takes From The Tree Caterpillars And Blossoms Together.

The Plight Of Modern Man Is That He Is Condemmed To Be Free.

I Exist, That Is All, And I Find It Nauseating.

A Lost Battle Is A Battle One Thinks One Has Lost.