Utopia Is The Process Of Making A

And In This Curious State I Had The Realization, At The Moment Of Seeing That Stranger There, That I Was A Person Like Everybody Else. That I Was Known By My Actions And Words, That My Internal Universe Was Unavailable For Inspection By Others. They Didn't Know. They Didn't Know, Because I Never Told Them.

The Vaunted Experience Of Age Was Perhaps Only A Matter Of Wounds And Scarring -- That Young Minds To Old Minds Might Be As Young Bodies To Old Bodies: Stronger, More Vital, Less Twisted By Damage.

You Can Only Kill Disappointment With A New Try.

But Lies Were What People Wanted; That Was Politics.

We Dream, We Wake On A Cold Hillside, We Pursue The Dream Again. In The Beginning Was The Dream, And The Work Of Disenchantment Never Ends.