We are what we have been told about ourselves. We are the sum of the messages we have received. The true messages. The false messages.

Endings are elusive, middles are nowhere to be found, but worst of all is to begin, to begin, to begin.

We are what we have been told about ourselves. We are the sum of the messages we have received. The true messages. The false messages.

Goals incapable of attainment have driven many a man to despair, but despair is easier to get to than that -- one need merely look out of the window, for example.

The not-knowing is crucial to art, is what permits art to be made. Without the scanning process engendered by not-knowing, without the possibility of having the mind move in unanticipated directions, there would be no invention.

Art is not difficult because it wishes to be difficult, rather because it wishes to be art. However much the writer might long to be straightforward, these virtues are no longer available to him. He discovers that in being simple, honest, straightforward, nothing much happens.

Is death that which gives meaning to life?