Wherever I Go, I Will Speak Of

What Worth Was A Man Who Could Not Be Haunted?

Memory, Prophecy, And Fantasy— The Past, The Future, And The Dreaming Moment Between— Are All In One Country, Living One Immortal Day. To Know That Is Wisdom. To Use It Is The Art.

How Many Human Eyes...had Snatched Glimpses Of Their Secret Anatomies, Down The Passage Of Years?

In This Sense Love Is Of A Different Order To Any Other Phenomenon, For It May Be Both An Event And A Sign Of That Invisible Mechanism I Spoke Of Before; Perhaps The Finest Sign, The Most Certain. In It’s Throes We Need Neither Luck Nor Science. We Are The Wheel, And The Man Who Profits By It. We Are The Star, And The Darkness It Pierces. We Are The Butterfly, Brief And Beautiful.

Words Are Sexier Than Flesh.