The truth is the light and the light is the truth.

Perhaps everyone loved someone; I didn't now, I couldn't give much thought to love; in order to travel far you had to be detached, and I had the long road back to the campus before me.

The end is in the beginning and lies far ahead.

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

I suspect that all the agony that goes into writing is borne precisely because the writer longs for acceptance-but it must be acceptance on his own terms.

When I discover who I am, I'll be free.

I am an invisible man. No, I am not a spook like those who haunted Edgar Allan Poe; nor am I one of your Hollywood-movie ectoplasms.