The Earth's A Door If You Press

I Rarely Ever Put My Head Above The Rampart And See Where This Big Lumbering Behemoth Called 'global Literature' Is Going.

I Think Words Operate Like Musical Notes That The Eyeball Hears.

Maybe Then You Comprehend, Speaking One Language Only Is A Prison!

Autumn Is Leaving Its Mellowness Behind For Its Spiky, Rotted Stage. Don't Remember Summer Even Saying Goodbye.

Peace, Though Beloved Of Our Lord, Is A Cardinal Virtue Only If Your Neighbors Share Your Conscience.