Poets arguing about modern poetry: jackals snarling over a dried-up well.
Hate is crystallized fear, fear's dividend, fear objectivized. We hate what we fear and so where hate is, fear will be lurking.
Melancholy and remorse forms the deep leaden keel which enables us to sail into the wind of reality.
We are all serving a life sentence in the dungeon of the self.
The civilization of one epoch becomes the manure of the next.
Approaching forty, I had a singular dream in which I almost grasped the meaning and understood the nature of what it is that wastes in wasted time.