We Are Talking Now Of

For In The Immediate World, Everything Is To Be Discerned, For Him Who Can Discern It, And Central And Simply, Without Either Dissection Into Science, Or Digestion Into Art, But With The Whole Of Consciousness, Seeking To Perceive It As It Stands: So That The Aspect Of A Street In Sunlight Can Roar In The Heart Of Itself As A Symphony, Perhaps As No Symphony Can: And All Of Consciousness Is Shifted From The Imagined, The Revisive, To The Effort To Perceive Simply The Cruel Radiation Of What Is.

I Believe That Every Human Being Is Potentially Capable Within His 'limits' Of Fully 'realizing' His Potentialities; That This, His Being Cheated And Choked Of It, Is Infinitely The Ghastliest, Commonest, And Most Inclusive Of All The Crimes Of Which The Human World Can Assure Itself.

The Camera Is Just A Machine, Which Records With Impressive And As A Rule Very Cruel Faithfulness.

By Some Chance, Here They Are, All On This Earth; And Who Shall Ever Tell The Sorrow Of Being On This Earth, Lying, On Quilts, On The Grass In A Summer Evening, Among The Sounds Of The Night. May God Bless My People, My Uncle, My Aunt, My Mother, My Good Father, Oh, Remember Them Kindly In Their Time Of Trouble; And In The Hour Of Their Taking Away.

He Used This Great, Sad, Motionless Face To Suggest Various Related Things: A One-track Mind Near The Track's End Of Pure Insanity; Mulish Imperturbability Under The Wildest Of Circumstances; How Dead A Human Being Can Get And Still Be Alive . . .