We Must Get Going. Tomorrow, Tomorrow.

If The Poet Can No Longer Speak For Society, But Only For Himself, Then We Are At The Last Ditch.

There Are No "facts"- There Is Only The Fact That Man, Every Man Everywhere In The World, Is On His Way To Ordination. Some Men Take The Long Route And Some Take The Short Route. Every Man Is Working Out His Own Way And Nobody Can Be Of Help Except By Being Kind, Generous, And Patient.

On The Meridian Of Time, There Is No Injustice: There Is Only The Poetry Of Motion Creating The Illusion Of Truth And Drama.

For There Is Only One Great Adventure And That Is Inward Toward The Self, And For That, Time Nor Space Nor Even Deeds Matter.

We Are Dancing In The Hollow Of Nothingness. We Are One Flesh, But Separated Like Stars.