The Universe Unfolds In The Body, Which

To Love Is To Undress Our Names.

No One Behind, No One Ahead. The Path The Ancients Cleared Has Closed. And The Other Path, Everyone's Path, Easy And Wide, Goes Nowhere. I Am Alone And Find My Way.

A Glass Pitcher, A Wicker Basket, A Tunic Of Coarse Cloth. Their Beauty Is Inseparable From Their Function. Handicrafts Belong To A World Existing Before The Separation Of The Useful And The Beautiful.

Tradition Is No Longer A Continuity But A Series Of Sharp Breaks. The Modern Tradition Is The Tradition Of Revolt.

Loving Means Getting Rid Of Names.