The Purpose Of Literature Is To Turn

For You Know Only A Heap Of Broken Images

So The Lover Must Struggle For Words.

Home Is Where One Starts From.

It's Strange That Words Are So Inadequate. Yet, Like The Asthmatic Struggling For Breath, So The Lover Must Struggle For Words.

The Fool,fixed In His Folly,may Think He Can Turn The Wheel On Which He Turns.