We Are Forever Responsible For That Which

Night, The Beloved. Night, When Words Fade And Things Come Alive. When The Destructive Analysis Of Day Is Done, And All That Is Truly Important Becomes Whole And Sound Again. When Man Reassembles His Fragmentary Self And Grows With The Calm Of A Tree.

A Man's Age Represents A Fine Cargo Of Experiences And Memories.

Life Always Bursts The Boundaries Of Formulas.

Behind All Seen Things Lies Something Vaster; Everything Is But A Path, A Portal Or A Window Opening On Something Other Than Iteself.

Let Your Dream Devour Your Life, Not Your Life Devour Your Dream.