English Words Are Like Prisms. Empty, Nothing

The Abyss Is Full Of Reality, The Abyss Experiences Itself, The Abyss Is Alive.

This Life Is But The Childhood Of Our Immortality.

Write The Unpublishable.. .and Then Publish It.

There's So Much Goop Inside Of Us, Man," He Said, "and It All Just Wants To Get Out.

Through This Feeling Of Helplessness Suddenly Burst A Piercing Nostalgia For The Lost World Of Childhood. The Way It Came Right Up Against The Heart, That World, And Against The Face. No Indoors Or Outdoors, Only Everything Touching Us, And The Grown-ups Lumbering Past Overhead Like Constellations.