Is it not careless to become too local when there are four hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone.

What destruction have I been blessed by?

A poem generated by its own laws may be unrealized and bad in terms of so-called objective principles of taste, judgement, deduction.

You have your identity when you find out, not what you can keep your mind ON, but what you can't keep your mind OFF.

The walk liberating, I was released from forms, from the perpendiculars, straight lines, blocks, boxes, binds of thought into the hues, shadings, rises, flowing bends and blends of sight.

Only silence perfects silence.

Things go away to return, brightened for the passage