They Also Live Who Swerve And Vanish

That Peculiar Disease Of Intellectuals, That Infatuation With Ideas At The Expense Of Experience, That Compels Experience To Conform To Bookish Expectations.

What You Really Have To Know Is One: Yourself. And The Only Way You Can Know That One Is In The Mirror Of The Others. And The Only Way You Can See Into The Mirror Of The Others Is By Love Or Its Opposite—by Profound Emotion. Certainly Not By Curiosity—by Dancing Around Asking, Looking, Making Notes. You Have To Live Relationships To Know.

History, Like A Badly Constructed Concert Hall, Has Occasional Dead Spots Where The Music Can't Be Heard.

You Burned The City Of London In Our Houses And We Felt The Flames.

See The World As It Truly Is, Small And Blue, Beautiful In That Eternal Silence Where It Floats.