Chaos Is Order Yet Undeciphered.

I Consider Books To Be Good For Our Health, And Also Our Spirits, And They Help Us To Become Poets Or Scientists, To Understand The Stars Or Else To Discover Them Deep Within The Aspirations Of Certain Characters, Those Who Sometimes, On Certain Evenings, Escape From The Pages And Walk Among Us Humans, Perhaps The Most Human Of Us All.

Yet Human Experience And The Practice Of Communication Have Shown Throughout The Ages That Definitions Are An Illusion, Like Having A Speech Defect And Trying To Say Love But Unable To Get The Word Out, Or, Better, Having A Tongue In One's Head But Unable To Feel Love.

Creating Is Always So Much More Stimulating Than Destroying.

Words Have Their Own Hierarchy, Their Own Protocol, Their Own Artistic Titles, Their Own Plebeian Stigmas.

From Literature To Ecology, From The Escape Velocity Of Galaxies To The Greenhouse Effect, From Garbage Disposal Methods To Traffic Jams, Everything Is Discussed In Our World. But The Democratic System, As If It Were A Given Fact, Untouchable By Nature Until The End Of Time, We Don't Discuss That.