Painters Ought To Be Mute. Speech Is

We Have Fallen Into This Very Mean Description Of Humanity. Naturalism In Fiction Is Too Reductive In Its Definition Of Human Beings.

I Held You In The Square And Felt The Evening Re-order Itself Around Your Smile.

I Was Going To Be A Scientist.

I Am Not Fighting For Success, Just To Get More Beauty Out Of Myself And Share It With More People.

There Is A Kind Of Expressed Love Which Is Easy To Subvert. When A Figure Is Loved For Their Deeds, Their Conquests, Their Heroism, Their Goodness, Their Love Of The People, These Are Easy Enough To Destroy... But There Is A Kind Of Love Which Is Felt For Apparently No Reason... A Love, Inspired, It Seems, By The Gods, Which It Is Impossible To Fight, Distort, Destroy, Or Weaken. In Fact, The Attempts To Destroy Such Loves Only Strengthen Them. And To Do Nothing Allows Them To Continue To Grow At Their Natural Pace, Inexoribly, Till This Love Becomes A Wide And Silent Adoration.