For My True Thoughts Have Spent More

Vocabularies Are Crossing Circles And Loops. We Are Defined By The Lines We Choose To Cross Or To Be Confined By.

Narrative Is One Of The Best Intoxicants Or Tranquilisers.

Do I Do As False Prophets Do And Puff Air Into Simulacra? Am I A Sorcerer--like Macbeth's Witches--mixing Truth And Lies In Incandescent Shapes? Or Am I A Kind Of Very Minor Scribe Of A Prophetic Book--telling Such Truth As In Me Lies, With Aid Of Such Fiction As I Acknowledge Mine, As Prospero Acknowledged Caliban.

Ice Burns, And It Is Hard To The Warm-skinned To Distinguish One Sensation, Fire, From The Other, Frost.

One Does Not Remember The Winners. One Remains Haunted By The Losers.