Some Editors Are Failed Writers,

Art Never Improves, But... The Material Of Art Is Never Quite The Same.

To Make An End Is To Make A Beginning.

There Is One Who Remembers The Way To Your Door: Life You May Evade, But Death You Shall Not.

Only By Acceptance Of The Past, Can You Alter It

At The Still Point Of The Turning World. Neither Flesh Nor Fleshless; Neither From Nor Towards; At The Still Point, There The Dance Is, But Neither Arrest Nor Movement. And Do Not All It Fixity, Where Past And Future Are Gathered. Neither Movement From Nor Towards, Neither Ascent Nor Decline. Except For The Point, The Still Point, There Would Be No Dance, And There Is Only The Dance.