What You See Is What You Make.

It Is Easy To Forget How Mysterious And Mighty Stories Are. They Do Their Work In Silence, Invisibly. They Work With All The Internal Materials Of Your Mind And Self. They Become Part Of You While Changing You. Beware The Stories You Read Or Tell; Subtly, At Night, Beneath The Waters Of Consciousness, They Are Altering Your World.

We Plan Our Lives According To A Dream That Came To Us In Our Childhood, And We Find That Life Alters Our Plans. And Yet, At The End, From A Rare Height, We Also See That Our Dream Was Our Fate. It's Just That Providence Had Other Ideas As To How We Would Get There. Destiny Plans A Different Route, Or Turns The Dream Around, As If It Were A Riddle, And Fulfills The Dream In Ways We Couldn't Have Expected.

I'm Conscious Of A Series Of Circles Working Its Way Through My Life. And At This Particular Moment I Have Come Round To The Beginning Of My Writing Cycle. It Begins With Poetry. There's Hardly A Day That Goes Past On Which I Don't Write Poetry.

Ghetto-dwellers Are The Great Fantasists. There Was An Extraordinary Vibrancy There, An Imaginative Life. When You Are That Poor, All You've Got Left Is Your Belief In The Imagination.

The Law Is Simple. Every Experience Is Repeated Or Suffered Till You Experience It Properly And Fully The First Time.