The Instant That The Blade Tore Open

I Want To Make A Poem Of My Life.

His Conviction Of Having No Purpose In Life Other Than To Act As A Distillation Of Poison Was Part Of The Ego Of An Eighteen-year-old. He Had Resolved That His Beautiful White Hands Would Never Be Soiled Or Calloused. He Wanted To Be Like A Pennant, Dependent On Each Gusting Wind. The Only Thing That Seemed Valid To Him Was To Live For The Emotions--gratuitous And Unstable, Dying Only To Quicken Again, Dwindling And Flaring Without Direction Or Purpose.

This Is A Photograph, So It Is As You See: There Are No Lies And No Deceptions. One Can Detect Here, Elevated To An Incomparably Higher Level, The Same Pathetic Emotional Appeal That Lies Concealed In Every Fake Spiritualist Photograph, Every Pornographic Photograph; One Comes To Suspect That The Strange, Disturbing Emotional Appeal Of The Photographic Art Consists Solely In That Same Repeated Refrain: This Is A True Ghost... This Is A Photograph, So It Is As You See: There Are No Lies, No Deceptions.

According To Eshin's Essentials Of Salvation, The Ten Pleasures Are But A Drop In The Ocean When Compared To The Joys Of The Pure Land.

Real Danger Is Nothing More Than Just Living. Of Course, Living Is Merely The Chaos Of Existence, But More Than That It's A Crazy Mixed-up Business Of Dismantling Existence Instant By Instant To The Point Where The Original Chaos Is Restored, And Taking Strength From The Uncertainty And The Fear That Chaos Brings To Re-create Existence Instant By Instant. You Won't Find Another Job As Dangerous As That. There Isn't Any Fear In Existence Itself, Or Any Uncertainty, But Living Creates It.