I see that I've become a really bad correspondent. It's not that I don't think of you. You come into my thoughts often. But when you do it appears to me that I owe you a particularly grand letter. And so you end in the "warehouse of good intentions": "Can't do it now." "Then put it on hold." This is one's strategy for coping with old age, and with death--because one can't die with so many obligations in storage. Our clever species, so fertile and resourceful in denying its weaknesses.

Fidelity is for phonographs

...I am much better now at ambiguities.

I am deeply moved when I write. I get turned on by it. I've never used any drugs for stimulation. I don't use words loosely. When I'm working and the right word comes, there is an answering resonance within me. There is also a hardness of intention that goes with it. There is no idleness in it.

Myself is thus and so, and will continue thus and so. And why fight it? My balance comes from instability.

Some people, if they didn't make it hard for themselves, might fall asleep.

Boredom is the conviction that you can't change ... the shriek of unused capacities.