In Those Days It Was

God Is Love, I Said, But Art's The Possibility Of Forms, And Shadows Are The Source Of Identity.

Our Task, Then Always, Is To Challenge The Apparent Forms Of Reality-that Is, The Fixed Manner And Values Of The Few, And To Struggle With It Until It Reveals Its Mad, Vari-implicated Chaos, Its False Face, And So On Until It Surrenders Its Insight, Its Truth.

If Only All The Contradictory Voices Shouting In My Head Would Calm Down And Sing A Song In Unison, Whatever It Was I Wouldn't Care As Long As They Sang Without Dissonance.

We Don't All Dig Shakespeare Uniformly, Or Even 'little Red Riding Hood.' The Understanding Of Art Depends Finally Upon One's Willingness To Extend One's Humanity And One's Knowledge Of Human Life.

The Blues Is An Art Of Ambiguity, An Assertion Of The Irrepressibly Human Over All Circumstances, Whether Created By Others Or By One's Own Human Failing.