It's Always Our Touches Of

There May Always Be Another Reality To Make Fiction Of The Truth We Think We've Arrived At.

What Is Madness To Those Who Only Observe, Is Often Wisdom To Those To Whom It Happens.

We Must Each Find Our Separate Meaning In The Persuasion Of Our Days Until We Meet In The Meaning Of The World.

If We Could Wake Each Morning With No Memory Of Living Before We Went To Sleep, We Might Arrive At A Faultless Day.

Between Our Birth And Death We May Touch Understanding, As A Moth Brushes A Window With Its Wing