In Life There Is Not

That Is Not It At All, That Is Not What I Meant, At All.

All Our Knowledge Brings Us Nearer To Our Ignorance.

Should I, After Tea And Cakes And Ices, Have The Strength To Force The Moment To Its Crisis?

Desire Itself Is Movement Not In Itself Desirable; Love Is Itself Unmoving, Only The Cause And End Of Movement, Timeless, And Undesiring Except In The Aspect Of Time Caught In The Form Of Limitation Between Un-being And Being.

Uncorseted, Her Friendly Bust Gives Promise Of Pneumatic Bliss.