No One Would Think He'd Make Such

O, Dread And Dire Word. Eternity! What Mind Of Man Can Understand It?

The Sacred Pint Alone Can Unbind The Tongue.

He Found In The World Without As Actual What Was In His World Within As Possible.

The Apprehensive Faculty Must Be Scrutinised In Action.

The Personality Of The Artist, At First A Cry Or A Cadence Or A Mood And Then A Fluid, And Lambent Narrative, Finally Refines Itself Out Of Existence, Impersonalises Itself, So To Speak. The Aesthetic Image In The Dramatic Form Is Life Purified In And Reprojected From The Human Imagination. The Mystery Of Aesthetic Like That Of Material Creation Is Accomplished. The Artist, Like The God Of The Creation, Remains Within Or Behind Or Beyond Or Above His Handiwork, Invisible, Refined Out Of Existence, Indifferent, Paring His Fingernails.