If you continually write and read yourself as a fiction, you can change what's crushing you.

Everyone thinks their own situation most tragic. I am no exception.

Don’t you, when strangers and friends come to call, straighten the cushions, kick the books under the bed and put away the letter you were writing? How many of us want any of us to see us as we really are? Isn’t the mirror hostile enough?

Now that physics is proving the intelligence of the universe what are we to do about the stupidity of mankind? I include myself. I know that the earth is not flat but my feet are. I know that space is curved but my brain has been condoned by habit to grow in a straight line. What I call light is my own blend of darkness. What I call a view is my hand-painted trompe-l'oeil. I run after knowledge like a ferret down a ferret hole. My limitations, I call the boundaries of what can be known. I interpret the world by confusing other people's psychology with my own.

The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love.

I have a head for heights it's true, but no stomach for the depths. Strange then to have plumbed so many.

…only a poet could frame a language that could frame a world.