He Who Cannot Howl Will Not Find

If The Sky Falls They Shall Have Clouds For Supper.

Inside My Empty Bottle I Was Constructing A Lighthouse While All Others Were Making Ships.

The Highest Levels Of Consciousness Are Wordless.

Silence Is The Only Language God Speaks.

The Plain Truth Is We Are Going To Die. Here I Am, A Teeny Spec Surrounded By Boundless Space And Time, Arguing With The Whole Of Creation, Shaking My Fist, Sputtering, Growing Even Eloquent At Times, And Then-poof! I Am Gone. Swept Off Once And For All. I Think That Is Very, Very Funny.