If There Were No Poetry On Any

The Fear Of Poetry Is An Indication That We Are Cut Off From Our Own Reality.

I Think There Is A Choice Possible To Us At Any Moment, As Long As We Live. But There Is No Sacrifice. There Is A Choice, And The Rest Falls Away. Second Choice Does Not Exist. Beware Of Those Who Talk About Sacrifice.

Not All Things Are Blest, But The Seeds Of All Things Are Blest.

The Heavy Sensual Shoulders, The Thighs, The Blood-born Flesh And Earth Turning Into Color, Rocks Into Their Crystals, Water To Sound, Fire To Form: Life Flickers Uncounted Into The Supple Arms Of Love.

If We Look Long Enough And Hard Enough ... We Will Begin To See The Connections That Bind Us Together, And When We Recognize Those Connections, We Will Begin To Change The World.