There Is No Limit To Desire But

I Couldn't Go On, Too Conscious All At Once Of My Whispering, My Eternal Posturing, Always Transforming The World With Words--changing Nothing.

It Would Be, For Me, Mere Pointless Pleasure, An Illusion Of Order For This One Frail, Foolish, Flicker-flash In The Long Dull Fall Of Eternity.

People Will Tell You That Writing Is Too Difficult, That It's Impossible To Get Your Work Published, That You Might As Well Hang Yourself. Meanwhile, They'll Keep Writing And You'll Have Hanged Yourself.

We Know That Where Community Exists In Confers Upon Its Members Identity, A Sense Of Belonging, And A Measure Of Security. . . . Communities Are The Ground-level Generators And Preservers Of Values And Ethical Systems.

As A Rule Of Thumb I Say, If Socrates, Jesus And Tolstoy Wouldn't Do It, Don't.