So The Self Under The Eye Lies,

Nobody Wanted Your Dance, Nobody Wanted Your Strange Glitter, Your Floundering Drowning Life And Your Effort To Save Yourself, Treading Water, Dancing The Dark Turmoil, Looking For Something To Give.

So We Found The End Of Our Journey. So We Stood, Alive In The River Of Light, Among The Creatures Of Light, Creatures Of Light.

The Progress Of Any Writer Is Marked By Those Moments When He Manages To Outwit His Own Inner Police System.

And The Elephant Sings Deep In The Forest-maze About A Star Of Deathless And Painless Peace But No Astronomer Can Find Where It Is.

It Took The Whole Of Creation To Produce My Foot, My Each Feather: Now I Hold Creation In My Foot.