Language Is Memory And Metaphor.

Is It Really Beyond Our Wits To Devise Some Form Of Censorship Which Would Trap Only The Crudely Sadistic?

The Gesture With Which One Generation Guards The Next Is The Movement, And The Only Time We See It Clearly, Of Life Itself.

Language Is One Of The Thin Walls Humanity Has Built Up Over Centuries Against Its Own Bestial And Destructive Impulses.

Hope Is A Talent Like Any Other.

Each Time That I Have Run Away - And From A Habit It Quickly Became An Illness - I Have Betrayed Someone. Myself, But Not Always Only Myself.