Who Am I? If This

What One Hides Is Worth Neither More Nor Less Than What One Finds. And What One Hides From Oneself Is Worth Neither More Nor Less Than What One Allows Others To Find.

I Could Spend My Whole Life Prying Loose The Secrets Of The Insane. These People Are Honest To A Fault, And Their Naivety Has No Peer But My Own.

I Find It Impossible To Think Of A Picture Save As A Window, And My First Concern About A Window Is To Find Out What It Looks Out On... And There Is Nothing I Love So Much As Something Which Stretches Away From Me Out Of Sight.

The Purest Surrealist Act Is Walking Into A Crowd With A Loaded Gun And Firing Into It Randomly

There Is By My Leaning Over The Precipice Of Your Presence And Your Absence In Hopeless Fusion My Finding The Secret Of Loving You Always For The First Time