My God died young. Theolatry i found Degrading, and its premises, unsound. No free man needs God; but was I free?

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.

I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else.

At eight, he had once told his mother that he wanted to paint air.

Coordinating there Events and objects with remote events And vanished objects. Making ornaments Of accidents and possibilities.

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.

While a few pertinent points have to be marked, the general impression I desire to convey is of a side door crashing open in life's full flight, and a rush of roaring black time drowning with its whipping wind the cry of lone disaster.