The act of writing requires a constant plunging back into the shadow of the past where time hovers ghostlike.

And my problem was that I always tried to go in everyone's way but my own.

Life is to be lived, not controlled, and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.

Education is all a matter of building bridges.

Whence all this passion toward conformity anyway? – diversity is the word. Let man keep his many parts and you'll have no tyrant states . Why, if they follow this conformity business they'll end up by forcing me, an invisible man, to become white, which is not a color but the lack of one. Must I strive toward colorlessness? But seriously, and without snobbery, think of what the world would lose if that should happen. America is woven of many strands. I would recognize them and let it so remain.

Eclecticism is the word. Like a jazz musician who creates his own style out of the styles around him, I play by ear.

My hole is warm and full of light.