There is a war between the ones who say there is a war and the ones who say there isn't.

And clenching your fist for the ones like us Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty.

In streams of light I clearly saw The dust you seldom see, Out of which the Nameless makes A Name for one like me... All busy in the sunlight The flecks did float and dance, And I was tumbled up with them In formless circumstance.

It’s a depressing habit you have of loving to sneeze and of eating apples as if they were juicier for you and being the first one to exclaim how good the movie is. You depress people. We like apples too.

There is a war between the ones who say there is a war and the ones who say there isn't.

And this is our time-keeper, with a passion for percussion

It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was a real mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was but one mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed and changed into itself over and over.