We Can Only Learn To Love By

Anything That Consoles Is Fake.

Art And Morality Are, With Certain Provisos…one. Their Essence Is The Same. The Essence Of Both Of Them Is Love. Love Is The Perception Of Individuals. Love Is The Extremely Difficult Realization That Something Other Than Oneself Is Real. Love, And So Art And Morals, Is The Discovery Of Reality.

True Love Gallops, It Flies, It Is The Swiftest Of All Modes Of Thought, Swifter Even Than Hate And Fear.

Art Is Not Cozy And It Is Not Mocked. Art Tells The Only Truth That Ultimately Matters. It Is The Light By Which Human Things Can Be Mended. And After Art There Is, Let Me Assure You All, Nothing.

How Different Each Death Is, And Yet It Leads Us Into The Self-same Country, That Country Which We Inhabit So Rarely, Where We See The Worthlessness Of What We Have Long Pursued And Will So Soon Return To Pursuing.