Evolution loves death more than it loves you or me. This is easy to write, easy to read, and hard to believe.

He judged the instant and let go; he flung himself loose into the stars.

Time is the warp and matter the weft of the woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurling shuttle.

Put yourself out of your misery.

Every live thing is a survivor on a kind of extended emergency bivouac.

I saw in a blue haze all the world poured flat and pale between the mountains

Take a quick dip, relax with a schnapps and a sandwich, stretch out, have a smoke, take a nap or just rest, and then sit around and chat until three. Then I hunt some more until sundown, bathe again, put on white tie and tails to keep up appearances, eat a huge dinner, smoke a cigar and sleep like a log until the sun comes up again to redden the eastern sky. This is living…. Could it be more perfect?