Besides, Rereading, Not Reading, Is What Counts.

We Have Stopped Believing In Progress. What Progress That Is !

We (the Indivisible Divinity That Works In Us) Have Dreamed The World. We Have Dreamed It Resistant, Mysterious, Visible, Ubiquitous In Space And Firm In Time, But We Have Allowed Slight, And Eternal, Bits Of The Irrational To Form Part Of Its Architecture So As To Know That It Is False.

Yo, Que Me Figuraba El Paraíso / Bajo La Especie De Una Biblioteca. I Have Always Imagined Paradise As A Kind Of Library.

Canada Is So Far Away It Hardly Exists.

The Word Happiness Exists In Every Language; It Is Plausible The Thing Itself Exists.