One Writes In Order To

I Lived In The First Century Of World Wars. Most Mornings I Would Be More Or Less Insane.

I Think There Is A Choice Possible To Us At Any Moment, As Long As We Live. But There Is No Sacrifice. There Is A Choice, And The Rest Falls Away. Second Choice Does Not Exist. Beware Of Those Who Talk About Sacrifice.

Exchange Is Creation.

The Heavy Sensual Shoulders, The Thighs, The Blood-born Flesh And Earth Turning Into Color, Rocks Into Their Crystals, Water To Sound, Fire To Form: Life Flickers Uncounted Into The Supple Arms Of Love.

Flight Is Intolerable Contradiction.