May My Silences Become More Accurate.

How Body From Spirit Slowly Does Unwind, Until We Are Pure Spirit At The End.

Art Is Our Defense Against Hysteria And Death.

I Always Felt Mean, Jogging Back Over The Logging Road,as If I Had Broken The Natural Order Of Things In That Swampland;disturbed Some Rhythm, Old And Of Vast Importance,by Pulling Off Flesh From The Living Planet;as If I Had Committed, Against The Whole Scheme Of Life, A Desecration.

Live In A Perpetual Great Astonishment.

I Teach My Sighs To Lengthen Into Songs.