Without Democracy Freedom Is A Chimera

Beyond Happiness Or Unhappiness, Though It Is Both Things, Love Is Intensity; It Does Not Give Us Eternity But Life, That Second In Which The Doors Of Time And Space Open Just A Crack: Here Is There And Now Is Always.

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

It Is Not Proper To Project Our Feelings Onto Things Or To Attribute Our Own Sensations And Passions To Them. Can It Also Be Improper To See In Them A Guide, A Way Of Life? To Learn The Art Of Remaining Motionless Amid The Agitation Of The Whirlwind, To Learn To Remain Still And To Be As Transparent As This Fixed Light Amid The Frantic Branches This May Be A Program For Life.

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.

Listen To Me As One Listens To The Rain, The Years Go By, The Moments Return, Do You Hear The Footsteps In The Next Room? Not Here, Not There: You Hear Them In Another Time That Is Now, Listen To The Footsteps Of Time, Inventor Of Places With No Weight, Nowhere, Listen To The Rain Running Over The Terrace, The Night Is Now More Night In The Grove, Lightning Has Nestled Among The Leaves, A Restless Garden Adrift-go In, Your Shadow Covers This Page.