Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.

I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.

I had removed my patent leather shoes after a while, for they foundered badly in the sand. It pleased me to think they would be perched there on the silver log, pointing out to sea, like a sort of soul-compass, after I was dead.

I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.

I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.

It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.

Only I wasn't steering anything, not even myself.