I Like To Make Use Of What

Palestine Needs Earth, But It Does Not Need Lawyers.

People Who Walk Across Dark Bridges, Past Saints, With Dim, Small Lights. Clouds Which Move Across Gray Skies Past Churches With Towers Darkened In The Dusk. One Who Leans Against Granite Railing Gazing Into The Evening Waters, His Hands Resting On Old Stones.

Writing Is A Deeper Sleep Than Death. Just As One Wouldn't Pull A Corpse From Its Grave, I Can't Be Dragged From My Desk At Night.

Going To Pieces. To Go To Pieces So Pointlessly And Unnecessarily.

All Language Is But A Poor Translation.