There is universal substance which is divine substance because where else can it be?

Between incomprehensible and incoherent sits the madhouse. I am not in the madhouse.

The silence was an intense roar.

Go moan for man. It's the pathos of people that gets us down, all the lovers in this dream.

Sure baby, mañana. It was always mañana. For the next few weeks that was all I heard––mañana a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.

The more ups and downs, the more joy I feel. The greater the fear, the greater the happiness I feel.

Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind.