Art Is A Step In The Known

The "i" In Me, My Friend, Dwells In The House Of Silence, And Therein It Shall Remain For Ever More, Unperceived, Unapproachable.

Where Can I Find A Man Governed By Reason Instead Of Habits And Urges?

And Let There Be No Purpose In Friendship Save The Deepening Of The Spirit. For Love That Seeks Aught But The Disclosure Of Its Own Mystery Is Not Love But A Net Cast Forth: And Only The Unprofitable Is Caught.

It Is Not The Sap Within The Furrowed Bark, Nor A Wing Attached To A Claw, But Rather A Garden Forever In Bloom And A Flock Of Angels Forever In Flight.

Remember, One Just Man Causes The Devil Greater Affliction Than A Million Blind Believers.