Man exists only insofar as he is separated from his surroundings. The cranium is a space-traveler's helmet. Stay inside or you perish.

I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.

Genius is an African who dreams up snow.

It is a singular reaction, this sitting still and writing, writing, writing, or ruminating at length, which is much the same, really.

I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child.

Old birds like Orlovius are wonderfully easy to lead by the beak, because a combination of decency and sentimentality is exactly equal to being a fool.

Maybe the only thing that hints at a sense of Time is rhythm; not the recurrent beats of the rhythm but the gap between two such beats, the gray gap between black beats: the Tender Interval.