The History Of My Stupidity

I Liked Beaches, Swimming Pools, And Clinics For There They Were The Bone Of My Bone, Flesh Of My Flesh. I Pitied Them And Myself, But This Will Not Protect Me. The Word And The Thought Are Over.

A Man Should Not Love The Moon. An Ax Should Not Lose Weight In His Hand. His Garden Should Smell Of Rotting Apples, And Grow A Fair Amount Of Nettles.

The Death Of A Man Is Like The Fall Of A Mighty Nation That Had Valiant Armies, Captains, And Prophets, And Wealthy Ports And Ships All Over The Seas.

He Returns Years Later, Has No Demands. He Wants Only One, Most Precious Thing: To See, Purely And Simply, Without Name, Without Expectations, Fears, Or Hopes, At The Edge Where There Is No I Or Not-i.

The True Enemy Of Man Is Generalization.