One's Not Half Two. It's Two Are

The Other Guineahen Died Of A Broken Heart And We Came To New York. I Used To Sit At A Table,drawing Wings With A Pencil That Kept Breaking And I Kept Remembering How Your Mind Looked When It Slept For Several Years,to Wake Up Asking Why. So Then You Turned Into A Photograph Of Somebody Who’s Trying Not To Laugh At Somebody Who’s Trying Not To Cry

Since Feelings Come First, Who Cares About The Syntax Of Things?

The Symbol Of All Art Is The Prism. The Goal Is Unrealism. The Method Is Destructive. To Break Up The White Light Of Objective Realism, Into The Secret Glories Which It Contains.

You And I Are More Than You And I Because It's We.

America Makes Prodigious Mistakes, America Has Colossal Faults, But One Thing Cannot Be Denied: America Is Always On The Move. She May Be Going To Hell, Of Course, But At Least She Isn't Standing Still.