Fear Was My Father, Father Fear. His

Too Much Reality Can Be A Dazzle, A Surfeit;too Close Immediacy An Exhaustion

The Stones Were Sharp, The Wind Came At My Back; Walking Along The Highway, Mincing Like A Cat.

What We Need Is More People Who Specialize In The Impossible.

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

Deep In Their Roots, All Flowers Keep The Light.