I love listening to languages I do not understand — bird song, cats eyes, daisies and dreams. All the words are safe with me, I am learning languages.
There is a time an artist must create only to destroy the empire of the past. When it is emptiness alone that must step into the future.
My conversation is with my own heart again.
If you must, if you must choose one language of God, one religion or book, one savior, and place them above another — know you have chosen language alone and forfeited the direct experience itself. God is like gravity, all of our bodies dance with it. It is the same no matter how it is spoken.
Though the pyre burns, and the fear of art is real, I am happy to transform again.
I don’t know the cost of wisdom, but I try to keep the coins melted in my chest so the sunshine of liquid soul, liquid gold — which buys nothing in the huntress’ eye — still shines.