Bring The Pure Wine Of

No One Can Tell If I’m Laughing Or Weeping. I Wonder Myself.

Disputational Knowing Wants Customers. It Has No Soul.

The Sky Will Bow Down To Your Beauty, If You Do.

The Past, The Future, O Dear, Is From You; You Should Regard Both These As One.

Someone Who Goes With A Half A Loaf Of Bread To A Small Place That Fits Like A Nest Around Him, Someone Who Wants No More, Who Is Not Himself Longed For By Anyone Else. He Is A Letter To Everyone. You Open It. It Says, Live.