We Can Redream This World And Make

I Lived Rough, By My Wits, Was Homeless, Lived On The Streets, Lived On Friends' Floors, Was Happy, Was Miserable.

The Higher The Artist, The Fewer The Gestures. The Fewer The Tools, The Greater The Imagination. The Greater The Will, The Greater The Secret Failure.

We Have Fallen Into This Very Mean Description Of Humanity. Naturalism In Fiction Is Too Reductive In Its Definition Of Human Beings.

Only Those Who Truly Love And Who Are Truly Strong Can Sustain Their Lives As A Dream. You Dwell In Your Own Enchantment. Life Throws Stones At You, But Your Love And Your Dream Change Those Stones Into The Flowers Of Discovery. Even If You Lose, Or Are Defeated By Things, Your Triumph Will Always Be Exemplary. And If No One Knows It, Then There Are Places That Do. People Like You Enrich The Dreams Of The Worlds, And It Is Dreams That Create History. People Like You Are Unknowing Transformers Of Things, Protected By Your Own Fairy-tale, By Love.

If We Could Be Pure Dancers In Spirit We Would Never Be Afraid To Love, And We Would Love With Strength And Wisdom.