Without Democracy Freedom Is A Chimera

The Woman Who Died Night After Night And Her Dying Was A Long Goodbye, A Train That Never Left.

Tradition Is No Longer A Continuity But A Series Of Sharp Breaks. The Modern Tradition Is The Tradition Of Revolt.

Images, Memories, Fragmentary Shapes And Forms All Those Sensations, Visions, Half-thoughts That Appear And Disappear In The Wink Of An Eye, As One Sets Forth To Meet.... The Path Also Disappears As I Think Of It, As I Say It.

A Flower Without A Stem, Is Beauty Waiting To Die. A Heart Without Love, Is A Tear Waiting To Cry.

Art Is What Remains Of Religion: The Dance Above The Yawning Abyss.