Some Books Seem Like A

Writer Speaks A Stench.

Art Is For The Artist Is Only Suffering Through Which He Releases Himself For Further Suffering.

They Did Not Know What We Can Now Guess At, Contemplating The Course Of History: That Change Begins In The Soul Before It Appears In Ordinary Existence.

This Morning, For The First Time In A Long Time, The Joy Again Of Imagining A Knife Twisted In My Heart.

The Fact That There Is Nothing But A Spiritual World Deprives Us Of Hope And Gives Us Certainty.