There Is Such A Thing

Bog-lights, Vapors Of Mysticism, Psychic Overtones, Soul Orgies, Wailings Among The Shadows, Weird Gnosticisms, Veils And Tissues Of Words, Gibbering Subjectivisms, Gropings And Maunderings, Ontological Fantasies ... This Is The Stuff, The Phantasms Of Hope, That Fills Your Book Shelves. Look At Them, All The Sad Wraiths Of Sad Mad Men And Passionate Rebels — Your Schopenhauers, Your Strindbergs, Your Tolstois And Nietzsches. Come. Your Glass Is Empty. Fill And Forget.

Somehow, The Love Of The Islands, Like The Love Of A Woman, Just Happens. One Cannot Determine In Advance To Love A Particular Woman, Nor Can One So Determine To Love Hawaii.

The Most Beautiful Stories Always Start With Wreckage.

So That Was The Way. No Fair Play. Once Down, That Was The End Of You.

The Man, With His Brain, Can Pierce The Intoxicating Mirage Of Things And Contemplate A Frozen Universe In The Most Perfect Indifference To Him And His Dreams.