What Is Art But The Denial Of

If We Knew The Truth, We'd See It; All Else Is System And Outskirts.

I’ve Dreamed A Lot. I’m Tired Now From Dreaming But Not Tired Of Dreaming. No One Tires Of Dreaming, Because To Dream Is To Forget, And Forgetting Does Not Weigh On Us, It Is A Dreamless Sleep Throughout Which We Remain Awake. In Dreams I Have Achieved Everything.

These Pages Are Not My Confession; They’re My Definition. And I Feel, As I Begin To Write It, That I Can Write It With Some Semblance Of Truth.

The Essence Of What I Desire Is Simply This: To Sleep Away Life.

Life Hurls Us Like A Stone, And We Sail Through The Air Saying, "look At Me Move.