In The Life Of One Man, Never

Where Is The Life We Lost In Living?

Accident Is Design / And Design Is Accident / In A Cloud Of Unknowing.

Our Emotions Are Only “incidents” In The Effort To Keep Day And Night Together.

There Will Be Time, There Will Be Time To Prepare A Face To Meet The Faces That You Meet.

The Nightingales Are Singing Near The Convent Of The Sacred Heart, And Sang Within The Bloody Wood When Agamemnon Cried Aloud, And Let Their Liquid Siftings Fall To Stain The Stiff Dishonored Shroud.