We Are As The Flute,

Today I'm Out Wandering, Turning My Skull Into A Cup For Others To Drink Wine From. In This Town Somewhere There Sits A Calm, Intelligent Man, Who Doesn't Know What He's About To Do!

The Meaning Of Poetry Has No Sureness Of Direction; Is Like The Sling, It Is Not Under Control.

The Ocean Of The Body Crashes Against The Ocean Of The Heart. Between Them Is A Barrier They Cannot Cross.

Everyone Sees The Unseen In Proportion To The Clarity Of His Hear.

Students Of Cunning Have Consumed Their Hearts And Learned Only Tricks; They've Thrown Away Real Riches: Patience, Self-sacrifice, Generosity. Rich Thought Opens The Way.