Love Each Other Or Perish.

The Most Important Truths Are Likely To Be Those Which Society At That Time Least Wants To Hear.

Life Is A Picnic On A Precipice.

A Writer, Or At Least A Poet, Is Always Being Asked By People Who Should Know Better: “whom Do You Write For?” The Question Is, Of Course, A Silly One, But I Can Give It A Silly Answer. Occasionally I Come Across A Book Which I Feel Has Been Written Especially For Me And For Me Only. Like A Jealous Lover I Don’t Want Anybody Else To Hear Of It. To Have A Million Such Readers, Unaware Of Each Other’s Existence, To Be Read With Passion And Never Talked About, Is The Daydream, Surely, Of Every Author.

We Are All Here On Earth To Help Others.

Acts Of Injustice Done Between The Setting And The Rising Sun In History Lie Like Bones, Each One.