I had learned to harness ignorance with presumption. I was ready to become an unacknowledged watercolorist.

I see America spreading disaster. I see America as a black curse upon the world. I see a long night settling in and that mushroom which has poisoned the world withering at the roots.

Until we accept the fact that life itself is founded in mystery, we shall learn nothing.

It is now the fall of my second year in Paris. I was sent here for a reason I have not yet been able to fathom. I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, i thought I was an artist. I no longer think about it. I am. There are no more books to be written, thank God.

The man who is intoxicated with life does not pass judgment, does not seek to come to a conclusion, does not impose his message on the world.

We must get going. Tomorrow, tomorrow.

The purpose of life is to remember.