... be indulgent toward those who ... are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.
I am so glad you are here. It helps me realize how beautiful my world is.
I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
You must give birth to your images. They are the future waiting to be born.
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps: silence of paintings. You language where all language ends. You time standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.
Whoever you are, go out into the evening, leaving your room, of which you know every bit; your house is the last before the infinite, whoever you are.