Whatever The Heart Desires, It Purchases At

To Write A Poem Is Like Trying To Catch A Lizard Without Its Tail Falling Off.

It’s Only With Great Vulgarity That You Can Achieve Real Refinement, Only Out Of Bawdry That You Can Get Tenderness.

The Artist's Work Constitutes The Only Satisfactory Relationship He Can Have With His Fellow Men Since He Seeks His Real Friends Among The Dead And The Unborn.

Whatever The Heart Desires, It Purchases At The Cost Of Soul

The Loved Object Is Simply One That Has Shared An Experience At The Same Moment Of Time, Narcissistically; And The Desire To Be Near The Beloved Object Is At First Not Due To The Idea Of Possessing It, But Simply To Let The Two Experiences Compare Themselves, Like Reflections In Different Mirrors. All This May Precede The First Look, Kiss, Or Touch; Precede Ambition, Pride, Or Envy; Precede The First Declarations Which Mark The Turning Point—for From Here Love Degenerates Into Habit, Possession, And Back To Loneliness.