I Feel The Need To

Perhaps Everyone Loved Someone; I Didn't Now, I Couldn't Give Much Thought To Love; In Order To Travel Far You Had To Be Detached, And I Had The Long Road Back To The Campus Before Me.

The Blues Is An Art Of Ambiguity, An Assertion Of The Irrepressibly Human Over All Circumstance Whether Created By Others Or By One's Own Human Failings. They Are The Only Consistent Art In The United States Which Constantly Remind Us Of Our Limitations While Encouraging Us To See How Far We Can Actually Go. When Understood In Their More Profound Implication, They Are A Corrective, An Attempt To Draw A Line Upon Man's Own Limitless Assertion.

All Novels Are About Certain Minorities: The Individual Is A Minority. The Universal In The Novel-and Isn't That What We're All Clamoring For These Days?-is Reached Only Through The Depiction Of The Specific Man In A Specific Circumstance.

Light Confirms My Reality, Gives Birth To My Form...without Light I Am Not Only Invisible But Formless As Well; And To Be Unaware Of One's Form Is To Live A Death...the Truth Is The Light And Light Is The Truth.

What And How Much Had I Lost By Trying To Do Only What Was Expected Of Me Instead Of What I Myself Had Wished To Do?