An Active Line On A Walk, Moving

Every Artist Would Like To Live In The Central Organ Of Creation... Not All Are Destined To Get There... But Our Beating Hearts Drive Us Deep Down, Right Into The Pit Of Creation.

Satire Must Not Be A Kind Of Superfluous Ill Will, But Ill Will From A Higher Point Of View. Ridiculous Man, Divine God. Or Else, Hatred Against The Bogged-down Vileness Of Average Man As Against The Possible Heights That Humanity Might Attain.

We Construct And Keep On Constructing, Yet Intuition Is Still A Good Thing.

A Line Comes Into Being. It Goes Out For A Walk, So To Speak, Aimlessly For The Sake Of The Walk.

Everything Passes, And What Remains Of Former Times, What Remains Of Life, Is The Spiritual. In Everything We Do, The Claim Of The Absolute Is Unchanging.