All Beginnings Are Involuntary.

Writing Is Like Paying Myself A Formal Visit.

I Never Had Anyone I Could Call “master”. No Christ Died For Me. No Buddha Showed Me The Right Path. In The Depths Of My Dreams No Apollo Or Athena Appeared To Me To Enlighten My Soul

To Need To Dominate Others Is To Need Others. The Commander Is Dependent.

To Choose Ways Of Not Acting Was Ever The Concern And Scruple Of My Life.

I’m Losing My Taste For Everything, Including Even My Taste For Finding Everything Tasteless.