I do believe this: That what we call love is always available to us. And of course I'm not just talking about passion. I'm talking about love where you just can't conceive that your life isn't perfect, that you can't conceive of wanting anything.

It seems to me that what the artist sees is the simple and obvious that is invisible to everybody else.

However they may have felt when they left they were now committed, they had passed the point of no return.

We all need a meaning to our life.

I knew the alphabet. Maybe I could be a writer.

Obviously, I believe that to pursue the American Dream is not only futile but self-destructive because ultimately it destroys everything and everyone involved with it. By definition it must, because it nurtures everything except those things that are important: integrity, ethics, truth, our very heart and soul. Why? The reason is simple: because Life/life is giving, not getting.

As Lao Tzu says, "The Tao that can be named is not the true Tao".