What thou lovest well remains.
Colloquial poetry is to the real art as the barber's wax dummy is to sculpture.
The temple is holy because it is not for sale.
The book shd. be a ball of light in one's hand.
America is a lunatic asylum.
I once saw a small child go to an electric light switch as say, Mamma, can I open the light? She was using the age-old language of exploration, the language of art.