It Was The Failures Who Had Always

When Man Becomes Greater Than Nature, Nature, Which Gave Him Birth, Will Respond.

Since The First Human Eye Saw A Leaf In Devonian Sandstone And A Puzzled Finger Reached To Touch It, Sadness Has Lain Over The Heart Of Man. By This Tenuous Thread Of Living Protoplasm, Stretching Backward Into Time, We Are Linked Forever To Lost Beaches Whose Sands Have Long Since Hardened Into Stone. The Stars That Caught Our Blind Amphibian Stare Have Shifted Far Or Vanished In Their Courses, But Still That Naked, Glistening Thread Winds Onward. No One Knows The Secret Of Its Beginning Or Its End. Its Forms Are Phantoms. The Thread Alone Is Real; The Thread Is Life.

Tomorrow Lurks In Us, The Latency To Be All That Was Not Achieved Before.

Man Would Not Be Man If His Dreams Did Not Exceed His Grasp... If I Remember The Sunflower Forest It Is Because From Its Hidden Reaches Man Arose. The Green World Is His Sacred Center. In Moments Of Sanity He Must Still Seek Refuge There.

The Future Is Neither Ahead Nor Behind, On One Side Or Another. Nor Is It Dark Or Light. It Is Contained Within Ourselves; Its Evil And Good Are Perpetually Within Us.