Death Is The Mother Of Forms.

To Love Is To Battle, To Open Doors, To Cease To Be A Ghost With A Number Forever In Chains, Forever Condemned By A Faceless Master; The World Changes If Two Look At Each Other And See.

Reality Is A Staircase Going Neither Up Nor Down, We Don't Move; Today Is Today, Always Is Today.

The Purpose Of Poetry Is To Restore To Mankind The Possibility To Wonder.

To Fight Evil Is To Fight Ourselves.

The North American System Only Wants To Consider The Positive Aspects Of Reality. Men And Women Are Subjected From Childhood To An Inexorable Process Of Adaptation Certain Principles, Contained In Brief Formulas Are Endlessly Repeated By The Press, The Radio, The Churches, And The Schools, And By Those Kindly, Sinister Beings, The North American Mothers And Wives. A Person Imprisoned By These Schemes Is Like A Plant In A Flowerpot Too Small For It He Cannot Grow Or Mature.