There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it?

The real and proper question is: why is it beautiful?

I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam.

We are here on the planet only once, and might as well get a feel for the place.

The way you live your days is the way you live your life.

Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation's short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.

I had been chipping at the world idly, and had by accident uncovered vast and labyrinthine further worlds within it.