When a man is born...there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.

If there is any difficulty in what I write, it is because of the material I use. The thought is always simple.

Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.

Ineluctable modality of the visible; at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read.

You get a decent do at the Brazen Head

You cannot eat your cake and have it.

Interpretations of interpretations interpreted.