If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

The greatest assassin of life is haste, the desire to reach things before the right time which means overreaching them.

The background reveals the true being and state of being of the man or thing. If I do not possess the background, I make the man transparent, the thing transparent.

If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

I am not I. I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; who remains calm and silent while I talk, and forgives, gently, when I hate, who walks where I am not, who will remain standing when I die.

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

Some of my affectionate envious friends say, "You write too much." Maybe, I answer. But as long as the best of your little is worse than the worst of my much, I will keep on doing so.