I Woke At Intervals Until . .

As Soon As Beauty Is Sought Not From Religion And Love, But For Pleasure, It Degrades The Seeker.

He Judged The Instant And Let Go; He Flung Himself Loose Into The Stars.

When You Write, You Lay Out A Line Of Words. Soon You Find Yourself Deep In New Territory.

Crystals Grew Inside Rock Like Arithmetic Flowers. They Lengthened And Spread, Added Plane To Plane In An Awed And Perfect Obedience To An Absolute Geometry That Even Stones - Maybe Only The Stones - Understood.

How We Spend Our Days Is, Of Course, How We Spend Our Lives.