It Is The Duty Of

Art Like Life Is An Open Secret.

Does Not Everything Depend On Our Interpretation Of The Silence Around Us?

A Taste Older Than Meat, Older Than Wine. A Taste As Old As Cold Water.

The Loved Object Is Simply One That Has Shared An Experience At The Same Moment Of Time, Narcissistically; And The Desire To Be Near The Beloved Object Is At First Not Due To The Idea Of Possessing It, But Simply To Let The Two Experiences Compare Themselves, Like Reflections In Different Mirrors. All This May Precede The First Look, Kiss, Or Touch; Precede Ambition, Pride, Or Envy; Precede The First Declarations Which Mark The Turning Point—for From Here Love Degenerates Into Habit, Possession, And Back To Loneliness.

He Thought And Suffered A Good Deal But He Lacked The Resolution To Dare--the First Requisite Of A Practitioner.