Perhaps, Perhaps This Would Be

We Must Be Moving, Working, Making Dreams To Run Toward; The Poverty Of Life Without Dreams Is Too Horrible To Imagine.

The Worst Enemy To Creativity Is Self-doubt.

The Moon Is No Door. It Is A Face In Its Own Right, White As A Knuckle And Terribly Upset. It Drags The Sea After It Like A Dark Crime; It Is Quiet With The O-gape Of Complete Despair. I Live Here.

Out Of The Ash I Rise With My Red Hair And I Eat Men Like Air.

I Wondered What I Thought I Was Burying.