When We Come Upon Assurances That A

Venus De Milo. To A Child She Is Ugly. When A Mind Adjusts To Thinking Of Her As A Completeness, Even Though, By Physiologic Standards, Incomplete, She Is Beautiful.

The Fate Of All Explanation Is To Close One Door Only To Have Another Fly Wide Open.

I Believe Nothing Of My Own That I Have Ever Written.

It Is Our Expression That The Flux Between That Which Isn't And That Which Won't Be, Or The State That Is Commonly And Absurdly Called "existence," Is A Rhythm Of Heavens And Hells: That The Damned Won't Stay Damed; That Salvation Only Precedes Perdition.

Do You Want Power Over Something? Be More Nearly Real Than It.