Words Strain, Crack, And Sometime Break, Under

The Destination Cannot Be Described; / You Will Know Very Little Until You Get There; / You Will Journey Blind.

We Must Always Take Risks. That Is Our Destiny.

The More Perfect The Artist, The More Completely Separate In Him Will Be The Man Who Suffers And The Mind Which Creates.

He Who Was Living Is Now Dead We Who Were Living Are Now Dying With A Little Patience.

That Is Not It At All, That Is Not What I Meant, At All.