We Can Redream This World And Make

Yes, The Highest Things Are Beyond Words. That Is Probably Why All Art Aspires To The Condition Of Wordlessness. When Literature Works On You, It Does So In Silence, In Your Dreams, In Your Wordless Moments. Good Words Enter You And Become Moods, Become The Quiet Fabric Of Your Being. Like Music, Like Painting, Literature Too Wants To Transcend Its Primary Condition And Become Something Higher. Art Wants To Move Into Silence, Into The Emotional And Spiritual Conditions Of The World. Statues Become Melodies, Melodies Become Yearnings, Yearnings Become Actions.

Our Time Here Is Magic! It's The Only Space You Have To Realize Whatever It Is That Is Beautiful, Whatever Is True, Whatever Is Great, Whatever Is Potential, Whatever Is Rare, Whatever Is Unique, In. It's The Only Space.

In The Beginning There Was A River. The River Became A Road And The Road Branched Out To The Whole World. And Because The Road Was Once A River It Was Always Hungry.

Destiny Plans A Different Route And Fulfills The Dream In Ways We Couldn't Have Expected.

I Lived Rough, By My Wits, Was Homeless, Lived On The Streets, Lived On Friends' Floors, Was Happy, Was Miserable.