Of All Possible Sexual Perversions,

Yes, I Read. I Have That Absurd Habit. I Like Beautiful Poems, Moving Poetry, And All The Beyond Of That Poetry. I Am Extraordinarily Sensitive To Those Poor, Marvelous Words Left In Our Dark Night By A Few Men I Never Knew.

Love Is Made By Two People, In Different Kinds Of Solitude. It Can Be In A Crowd, But In An Oblivious Crowd.

For Each Man There Awaits... A Particular Image Capable Of Annihilating The Entire Universe.

Can The Knowledge Deriving From Reason Even Begin To Compare With Knowledge Perceptible By Sense?

There Are Strange Flowers Of Reason To Match Each Error Of The Senses. Admirable Gardens Of Absurd Beliefs, Forebodings, Obsessions And Frenzies. Unknown, Ever-changing Gods Take Shape There.