If there is to be any peace it will come through being, not having.

Topographically the country is magnificent - and terrifying. Why terrifying? Because nowhere else in the world is the divorce between man and nature so complete. Nowhere have I encountered such a dull, monotonous fabric of life as here in America. Here boredom reaches its peak.

I like the one about the little soulworms that fly out of the nest for the resurrection.

One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.

To the man whose senses are alive and alert there is not even the need to stir from one's threshold.

I believe in saying the truth, coming out with it cold, shocking if necessary, not disguising it.

There was another thing I heartily disbelieved in - work. Work, it seemed to me even at the threshold of life, is an activity reserved for the dullard. It is the very opposite of creation, which is play… The part of me which was given up to work, which enabled my wife and child to live in the manner which they unthinkingly demanded, this part of me which kept the wheel turning - a completely fatuous, ego-centric notion! - was the least part of me. I gave nothing to the world in fulfilling the function of breadwinner; the world exacted its tribute of me, that was all.