Where You Have Nothing, There You Should

Imagination At Wit's End Spreads Its Sad Wings.

Words And Images Run Riot In My Head, Pursuing, Flying, Clashing, Merging, Endlessly. But Beyond This Tumult There Is A Great Calm, And A Great Indifference, Never Really To Be Troubled By Anything Again.

Enough To Know No Knowing.

Go On Failing. Go On. Only Next Time, Try To Fail Better.

Enough Of Acting The Infant Who Has Been Told So Often How He Was Found Under A Cabbage That In The End He Remembers The Exact Spot In The Garden And The Kind Of Life He Led There Before Joining The Family Circle.