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QuentinCrisp-RossBennettLewisPHOTO.jpg  
We think we write definitively of those parts of our nature that are dead and therefore beyond change, but that which writes is still changing — still in doubt. Even a monotonously undeviating path of self-examination does not necessarily lead to self-knowledge. I stumble towards my grave confused and hurt and hungry.
~ Quentin Crisp ~
 


This is one of the openly revealed accounts created by Kalki (talk · contributions) ~ Taliesin 10:52, 12 November 2009 (UTC)

seeming's enough for slaves of space and time
— ours is the now and here of freedom.
...
a million thousand hundred nothings seem
— we are himself's own self;his very him
...
The whole truth…
sings only — and all lovers are the song

E. E. Cummings


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