What's Most Worthless About Dreams Is That

I Search And Can't Find Myself. I Belong In Chrysanthemum Time, Sharp In Calla Lily Elongations. God Made My Soul Into An Ornamental Thing.

Again I See You, But Me I Don't See!, The Magical Mirror In Which I Saw Myself Has Been Broken, And Only A Piece Of Me I See In Each Fatal Fragment - Only A Piece Of You And Me!

The Slope Takes You To The Windmill, But Effort Takes You Nowhere.

Writing Is Like Paying Myself A Formal Visit.

La Literatura Es La Manera Más Agradable De Ignorar La Vida.