We Love Only What We Do Not

The Opinions Which We Hold Of One Another, Our Relations With Friends And Kinsfolk Are In No Sense Permanent, Save In Appearance, But Are As Eternally Fluid As The Sea Itself.

Under Each Station Of The Real, Another Glimmers.

Knowing Does Not Always Allow Us To Prevent, But At Least The Things That We Know, We Hold Them, If Not In Our Hands, But At Leastin Our Thoughts Where We May Dispose Of Them At Our Whim, Which Gives Us The Illusion Of Power Over Them.

Let Us Leave Pretty Women To Men Devoid Of Imagination.

Existence Is Of Little Interest Save On Days When The Dust Of Realities Is Mingled With Magic Sand.