To Love Is To Battle, To Open

Art Is What Remains Of Religion: The Dance Above The Yawning Abyss.

Mineral Cactai, Quicksilver Lizards In The Adobe Walls, The Bird That Punctures Space, Thirst, Tedium, Clouds Of Dust, Impalpable Epiphanies Of Wind. The Pines Taught Me To Talk To Myself. In That Garden I Learnedto Send Myself Off. Later There Were No Gardens.

When A Society Decays, It Is Language That Is First To Become Gangrenous. As A Result, Social Criticism Begins With Grammar And The Re-establishing Of Meanings

The American: A Titan Enamored Of Progress, A Fanatical Giant Who Worships "getting Things Done" But Never Asks Himself What He Is Doing Nor Why He Is Doing It.

Tradition Is No Longer A Continuity But A Series Of Sharp Breaks. The Modern Tradition Is The Tradition Of Revolt.