A Man Who Wants To

But The Problem Is To Make The Soul Into A Monster

Love...no Such Thing. Whatever It Is That Binds Families And Married Couples Together, That's Not Love. That's Stupidity Or Selfishness Or Fear. Love Doesn't Exist. Self Interest Exists, Attachment Based On Personal Gain Exists, Complacency Exists. But Not Love. Love Has To Be Reinvented, That’s Certain.

O Seasons, O Castles, What Soul Is Without Flaws? All Its Lore Is Known To Me, Felicity, It Enchants Us All.

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

What A Life! True Life Is Elsewhere. We Are Not In The World.