All Our Efforts Must Tend Towards Light.

Xxix Traveler, There Is No Path. The Path Is Made By Walking. Traveller, The Path Is Your Tracks And Nothing More. Traveller, There Is No Path The Path Is Made By Walking. By Walking You Make A Path And Turning, You Look Back At A Way You Will Never Tread Again Traveller, There Is No Road Only Wakes In The Sea.

Wherever Learning Breeds Specialists, The Sum Of Human Culture Is Enhanced Thereby. That Is The Illusion And Consolation Of Specialists.

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.

The Only Living Language Is The Language In Which We Think And Have Our Being.

Has My Heart Gone To Sleep? Have The Beehives Of My Dreams Stopped Working, The Waterwheel Of The Mind Run Dry, Scoops Turning Empty, Only Shadow Inside? No, My Heart Is Not Asleep. It Is Awake, Wide Awake. Not Asleep, Not Dreaming— Its Eyes Are Opened Wide Watching Distant Signals, Listening On The Rim Of Vast Silence