I'll read, and then I'll take naps. When I feel sleep coming on, I give in and don't fight it.

It is always some illusion that creates disillusion, especially in the young, for whom the only alternative to perfection is cynicism.

Except among those whose education has been in the minimalist style, it is understood that hasty moral judgments about the past are a form of injustice.

Finding oneself was a misnomer; a self is not found but made.

Maxims in times of danger are useless, experience is incommunicable. The knotted strands of life, desire, assumptions, and moral codes cannot be unsnarled; they can only be cut, which is what happens when an air raid occurs, with a silencing fortissimo like the finale of a Beethoven symphony.

After being boxed in by man and his constructions in Europe and the East, the release into space is exhilarating. The horizon is a huge remote circle, and no hills intervene.

It seems a long time since the morning mail could be called correspondence.