To Think Of Him In The Middle

The Inner Chambers Of The Soul Are Like The Photographer's Darkroom. Like A Laboratory. One Cannot Stay There All The Time Or It Becomes The Solitary Cell Of The Neurotic.

In New York The Acoustics Are Good For Laughter, For Life Is All External, All Action, No Thought, No Meditation, No Dreaming, No Reflection, Only The Exuberance Of Action.

Love Never Dies A Natural Death. It Dies Because We Don't Know How To Replenish Its Source.

Art Is The Method Of Levitation, In Order To Separate One's Self From Enslavement By The Earth.

When You Possess Light Within, You See It Externally.