At The Core Of The Universe, The

Subconsciously The Genius Is Feared As An Image Breaker; Frequently He Does Not Accept The Opinions Of The Mass, Or Man's Opinion Of Himself.

In The Days Of The Frost Seek An Minor Sun.

From The Solitude Of The Wood, (man) Has Passed To The More Dreadful Solitude Of The Heart.

The Future Is Neither Ahead Nor Behind, On One Side Or Another. Nor Is It Dark Or Light. It Is Contained Within Ourselves; Its Evil And Good Are Perpetually Within Us.

Out Of The Choked Devonian Waters Emerged Sight And Sound And The Music That Rolls Invisible Through The Composer's Brain. They Are There Still In The Ooze Along The Tideline, Though No One Notices. The World Is Fixed, We Say: Fish In The Sea, Birds In The Air. But In The Mangrove Swamps By The Niger, Fish Climb Trees And Ogle Uneasy Naturalists Who Try Unsuccessfully To Chase Them Back To The Water. There Are Things Still Coming Ashore.