What Is True, Is True Only For

At The Beach - Time You Enjoyed Wasting, Is Not Wasted.

Fare Forward, Travellers! Not Escaping From The Past Into Different Lives, Or Into Any Future; You Are Not The Same People Who Left That Station Or Who Will Arrive At Any Terminus, While The Narrowing Rails Slide Together Behind You.

The Single Rose Is Now The Garden Where All Loves End

Our Lives Are Mostly A Constant Evasion Of Ourselves, And Of Our Visible, Sensible World.

Accident Is Design / And Design Is Accident / In A Cloud Of Unknowing.