One is always at home in one's past.
Only talent interests me in paintings and books. Not general ideas, but the individual contribution.
It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.
Play! Invent the world! Invent reality!
And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.
The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.