Civilization must be destroyed. The hairy saints of the North have earned this crumb by their complaints.

Make the visible a little hard to see.

Poetry is a satifying of the desire for resemblance.

Fromage and coffee and cognac and no gods.

Imagination...is the irrepressible revolutionist.

The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair. And the green freedom of a cockatoo Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice