Only A Fool Thinks Price And Value

Between Living And Dreaming There Is A Third Thing. Guess It.

By Walking One Makes The Road, And Upon Glancing Behind Sees The Path

The Deepest Words Of The Wise Man Teach Us The Same As The Whistle Of The Wind When It Blows Or The Sound Of The Water When It Is Flowing.

Hell Is The Bloodcurdling Mansion Of Time, In Whose Profoundest Circle Satan Himself Waits, Winding A Gargantuan Watch In His Hand.

The Afternoon Is Bright, With Spring In The Air, A Mild March Afternoon, With The Breath Of April Stirring, I Am Alone In The Quiet Patio Looking For Some Old Untried Illusion - Some Shadow On The Whiteness Of The Wall Some Memory Asleep On The Stone Rim Of The Fountain, Perhaps In The Air The Light Swish Of Some Trailing Gown.