I Have Seafoam In My Veins, I

Children And Lunatics Cut The Gordian Knot Which The Poet Spends His Life Patiently Trying To Untie.

The Dead Drug Leaves A Ghost Behind. At Certain Hours It Haunts The House.

The Actual Tragedies Of Life Bear No Relation To One's Preconceived Ideas. In The Event, One Is Always Bewildered By Their Simplicity, Their Grandeur Of Design, And By That Element Of The Bizarre Which Seems Inherent In Them.

A Picture Is Not A Window...an Abstract Refers To No Reality But Its Own.

Art Is Science Made Flesh.