A Man Must Fill His Life With

I Looked At My Right Hand, The Hand With Which I Painted. There Was Power In That Hand. Power To Create And Destroy. Power To Bring Pleasure And Pain. Power To Amuse And Horrify. There Was In That Hand The Demonic And The Divine At One And The Same Time. The Demonic And The Divine Were Two Aspects Of The Same Force. Creation Was Demonic And Divine. Creativity Was Demonic And Divine. I Was Demonic And Divine.

A Non-fiction Writer Pretty Much Has The Shape Of The Figure In Front Of Him Or Her And Goes About Refining It. A Work Of Non-fiction Is Not As Difficult To Write As A Work Of Fiction, But It's Not As Satisfying In The End.

All Beginnings Are Hard.

… The World Will Indulge You Just So Long Asher Lev. Then It Will Stop. You Will Simply Have To Grow Accustomed To That Truth.

I Learned A Long Time Ago, Reuven, That A Blink Of An Eye In Itself Is Nothing. But The Eye That Blinks, That Is Something. A Span Of Life Is Nothing. But The Man Who Lives That Span, He Is Something. He Can Fill That Tiny Span With Meaning, So Its Quality Is Immeasurable Though Its Quantity May Be Insignificant. Do You Understand What I Am Saying? A Man Must Fill His Life With Meaning, Meaning Is Not Automatically Given To Life.