He felt that there is a loose balance of good and evil, and that the art of living consists in getting the greatest good out of the greatest evil.

Dreams disdain fine lines and finishing touches on landscapes – they content themselves with thick but representative brushstrokes.

To him the stars seemed like so many musical notes affixed to the sky, just waiting for somebody to unfasten them. Someday the sky would be emptied, but by then the earth would be a constellation of musical scores

Tears are not arguments.

Let Pascal say that man is a thinking reed. He is wrong; man is a thinking erratum. Each period in life is a new edition that corrects the preceding one and that in turn will be corrected by the next, until publication of the definitive edition, which the publisher donates to the worms.

Tomorrow's sun is on it's way - a relentless sun, inscrutable like life.

He felt that there is a loose balance of good and evil, and that the art of living consists in getting the greatest good out of the greatest evil.