Traveler, There Is No Path, The Path

The Truly Erotic Sensibility, In Evoking The Image Of Woman, Never Omits To Clothe It. The Robing And Disrobing: That Is The True Traffic Of Love.

At The Very Smallest Wheel Of Our Reasoning It Is Possible For A Handful Of Questions To Break The Bank Of Our Answers.

Avoid Pulpits, Platforms, Stages And Pedestals. Keep To The Hard Ground. It Is The Only Way You Can Judge Your Approximate Status As A Man.

Those Who Deny The Existence Of The Truth Postulate The Truth Of Their Denial And Plainly Contradict Themselves.

Wanderer, Your Footsteps Are The Road, And Nothing More; Wanderer, There Is No Road, The Road Is Made By Walking. By Walking One Makes The Road, And Upon Glancing Behind One Sees The Path That Never Will Be Trod Again. Wanderer, There Is No Road-- Only Wakes Upon The Sea. Caminante, Son Tus Huellas El Camino, Y Nada Más; Caminante, No Hay Camino, Se Hace Camino Al Andar. Al Andar Se Hace Camino, Y Al Volver La Vista Atrás Se Ve La Senda Que Nunca Se Ha De Volver A Pisar. Caminante, No Hay Camino, Sino Estelas En La Mar.