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— Franz Kafka"Human nature, essentially changeable, as unstable as the dust, can endure no restraint; if it binds itself it soon begins to tear madly at its bonds, until it rends everything asunder, the wall, the bonds, and its very self."
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The work of the world is common as mud. Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust. But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
— Marge Piercy
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In dreams, through longings, we can see— All latent in the dust of gold These forests that perhaps could be— But that will never, ever, grow.
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