Perhaps we've invented conspiracies for our own psychic well-being, to heal ourselves.
Past, present and future are not amenities of language. Time unfolds into the seamsof being. It passes through you, making and shaping.
Be willing to die for your beliefs, or computer printouts of your beliefs.
I've never made an outline for any novel that I've written. Never.
Somehow pictures always lead to people as masses. Books belong to individuals.
Ask yourself this question. Do we have to be humans forever? Consciousness is exhausted. Back now to inorganic matter. This is what we want. We want to be stones in a field.