All Time Is Eternal, Moving Inexorably Toward

Can We Only Love Something Created In Our Own Imaginations?

It Is Not Enough To Understand What We Ought To Be, Unless We Know What We Are; And We Do Not Understand What We Are, Unless We Know What We Ought To Be.

Poetry Is A Mug's Game.

You Have To Risk Going Too Far To Discover Just How Far You Can Really Go.

Between The Desire And The Spasm, Between The Potency And The Existence, Between The Essence And The Descent, Falls The Shadow.