We Are All Hunting For

Shyness Has Laws You Can Only Give Yourself; Tragically To Those Who Least Understand.

Somewhere In The Heart Of Experience There Is An Order And A Coherence Which We Might Purprise If We Were Attentive Enough, Loving Enough, Or Patient Enough.

No History Much? Perhaps. Only This Ominous Dark Beauty Flowering Under Veils, Trapped In The Spectrum Of A Dying Style: A Village Like An Instinct Left To Rust, Composed Around The Echo Of A Pistol-shot.

I Suppose The Secret Of His Success Is In His Tremendous Idleness Which Almost Approaches The Supernatural.

Life Is Like A Cucumber. One Minute It's In Your Hand, The Next It's Up You Ass.