I didn't know the names of the flowers - now my garden is gone.
We love to be hurt and we love to have our unhealing wounds opened and reopened again: we sit staring in the mirror of art, fascinated by our own deformities.
I know I'm not God, are you? Don't be silly. God? God? Everybody's God? Don't be silly.
Thank God I am not God! Thank God I am not God!
The real America that Whitman proclaimed and Thoreau decoded.
Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.