To the intelligent man or woman, life appears infinitely mysterious. But the stupid have an answer for every question.

There is a deep, abiding, unshakable satisfaction in a life of complete failure.

In this glare of brilliant emptiness, in this arid intensity of pure heat, in the heart of a weird solitude, great silence and grand desolution, all things recede to distrances out of reach, relecting light but impossible to touch, annihilating all thought and all that men have made to a spasm of whirling dust far out on the golden desert.

What did Jesus say to the headwaiter at the Last Supper? 'Separate checks, please.'

In the American Southwest, I began a lifelong love affair with a pile of rock.

Our job is to record, each in his own way, this world of light and shadow and time that will never come again exactly as it is today.

One single act of defiance against power, against the State that seems omnipotent but is not, transforms and transfigures the human personality. At least for a time. For a while. Perhaps that is enough.