Can The Knowledge Deriving From

Love Is Made By Two People, In Different Kinds Of Solitude. It Can Be In A Crowd, But In An Oblivious Crowd.

O Reason, Reason, Abstract Phantom Of The Waking State, I Had Already Expelled You From My Dreams, Now I Have Reached A Point Where Those Dreams Are About To Become Fused With Apparent Realities: Now There Is Only Room Here For Myself.

Error Is Certainty's Constant Companion. Error Is The Corollary Of Evidence. And Anything Said About Truth May Equally Well Be Said About Error: The Delusion Will Be No Greater.

Photography Intervenes In A Very Strange Way. It Makes The Streets, Gates, Squares Of The City Into Illustrations Of A Trashy Novel, Draws Off The Banal Obviousness Of This Ancient Architecture To Inject It With The Most Pristine Intensity.

In Our Day There Are No Longer Any Ideas, Or They Are Scarcer Than Hens' Teeth.