The Artist Is Not A Man Who

I Am Someone Who Proudly And Humbly Affirms That Love Is The Mystery-of-mysteries, And That Nothing Measurable Matters 'a Very Good God Damn'; That 'an Artist, A Man, A Failure' Is No Mere Whenfully Accreting Mechanism, But A Givingly Eternal Complexity-neither Some Soulless And Heartless Ultrapredatory Infra-animal Nor Any Understandingly Knowing And Believing And Thinking Automaton, But A Naturally And Miraculously Whole Human Being-a Feelingly Illimitable Individual; Whose Only Happiness Is To Transcend Himself, Whose Every Agony Is To Grow.

Laughing Is Just Another Way Of Showing People Your Wise

And It's You Are Whatever A Moon Has Always Meant And Whatever A Sun Will Always Sing Is You

Treat A Man Like Dirt-he Produces Flowers.

Be Of Love A Little More Careful Than Of Anything.