Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.
Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It's what everything else isn't.
The damage of teaching: the constant contact with the undeveloped.
Should we say the self, once perceived, becomes the soul?
Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
What have I done, dear God, to deserve this perpetual feeling that I'm almost ready to begin something really new?