It is with the soul that we grasp the essence of another human being, not with the mind, nor even with the heart.

I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.

She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately--- a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us an we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks--- a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.

There is no salvation in becoming adapted to a world which is crazy.

We are swimming on the face of time and all else has drowned, is drowning, or will drown.

As long as that spark of passion is missing there is no human significance in the performance.

Obscenity is a cleansing process, whereas pornography only adds to the murk.