Write What You Know. That

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely; And If You Surrender Your Personal Responsibility To A Government Which Promises To Take Care Of You, They Will Only Take Care Of Themselves.

Both Poet And Painter Want To Reach The Silence Behind The Language, The Silence Within The Language. Both Painter And Poet Want Their Work To Shine Not Only In Daylight But (by Whatever Illusionist Magic) From Within.

Children, To Be Illustrious Is Sad.

Till I, High In The Tower Of My Time Among Familiar Ruins, Began To Cry For Accident, Sickness, Justice, War And Crime, Because All Died, Because I Had To Die. The Snow Fell, The Trees Stood, The Promise Kept, And A Child I Slept.

Language Is Remarkable, Except Under The Extreme Constraints Of Mathematics And Logic, It Never Can Talk Only About What It's Supposed To Talk About But Is Always Spreading Around.