The Journey, Not The Destination Matters.

Where Does One Go From A World Of Insanity? Somewhere On The Other Side Of Despair.

Should I, After Tea And Cakes And Ices, Have The Strength To Force The Moment To Its Crisis?

This Is The Feeling For Syllable And Rhythm, Penetrating Far Below The Conscious Levels Of Thought And Feeling, Invigorating Every Word.

Distracted From Distraction By Distraction

The Single Rose Is Now The Garden Where All Loves End