All Weddings Are Similar, But

The Human Imagination... Has Great Difficulty In Living Strictly Within The Confines Of A Materialist Practice Or Philosophy. It Dreams, Like A Dog In Its Basket, Of Hares In The Open.

Never Again Shall A Single Story Be Told As Though It Were The Only One.

Today The Discredit Of Words Is Very Great.

My Heart Born Naked Was Swaddled In Lullabies. Later Alone It Wore Poems For Clothes. Like A Shirt I Carried On My Back The Poetry I Had Read. So I Lived For Half A Century Until Wordlessly We Met. From My Shirt On The Back Of The Chair I Learn Tonight How Many Years Of Learning By Heart I Waited For You.

The Essence Of Songs Is Neither Vocal Nor Cerebral But Organic. We Follow Songs In Order To Be Enclosed. We Find Ourselves Inside A Message. The Unsung, Impersonal World Remains Outside, On The Other Surface Of A Placenta. All Songs, Even When Their Content Or Rendering Is Strongly Masculine, Operate Maternally.