one point, line or surface is equal to another point, line or surface. very seldom. there can be no geometrical demonstration for this. hands of mine seizing finite fractions of fractions of waves and waves of yours. from across the dire strait.
hours. the extremest edges. I can find none but the future annihilation of closed circles. I desire it may be produced. the necessary connexion of force and future.
we have so obscure an idea of desire and belief that all the imaginings we can invent are nothing but perishing moons. my bed and papers appear as an hypothesis for near or remote horses. bodies change their position and coherence in the text.
another breast opens. I shall write to develop these cliffs of almost nothing. and explain never. the mountains where. how much. whenever you have called. always the shocks of crystals to me.
passions and affections are houses and trees. the strokes of embodied nothing. where much fresh waters assure us of matter of fact. say fire and pain. upon a close approach.
any interruption in my feeling or bond obtains a silent explosion. the desire to excel in transition from X to X. the unknown extent of the burned substance. the unknown river in our palms touches the cause.
I must confess a labyrinth. I neither propose nor dispose. the whole labyrinth induces me to not spare any horse. the journey possesses the agitated idea of riding. the passage conceals the breast in motion.
Suppose I imagine at present the voice coming from my next extinction into the rays of light. flowing from those tongues of confusion. confining myself to hope and fear. with compass and loss. deeper than the complete machine of inflamable horses
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