The Final Reward Of The Dead -

At Heart I Am A Warrior.

From The Sun I Learned This: When He Goes Down, Overrich; He Pours Gold Into The Sea Out Of Inexhaustible Riches, So That Even The Poorest Fisherman Still Rows With Golden Oars. For This I Once Saw And I Did Not Tire Of My Tears As I Watched It.

We Deceive Ourselves When Giving Respect To The Person For Whom We Have Surrendered Ourselves, When We Respectively Expect Them To Be As We Would Wish Them To Be.

Mystical Explanations Are Thought To Be Deep; The Truth Is That They Are Not Even Shallow.

On The Rare Occasions When Our Dreams Succeed And Achieve Perfection - Most Dreams Are Bungled - The Are Symbolic Chains Of Scene And Images In Place Of A Narrative Poetic Language; They Circumscribe Our Experiences Or Expectations Or Situations With Such Poetic Boldness And Decisiveness That In The Morning We Are Always Amazed When We Remember Our Dreams.