Being Ill Like This Combines Shock -

I'm Sixty-two, And It's Ecological Sense To Die While You're Still Productive, Die And Clear A Space For Others, Old And Young.

I Distrust Summaries, Any Kind Of Gliding Through Time, Any Too Great A Claim That One Is In Control Of What One Recounts; I Think Someone Who Claims To Understand But Is Obviously Calk, Someone Who Claims To Write With Emotion Recollected In Tranquility, Is A Fool And A Liar. To Understand Is To Tremble. To Recollect Is To Re-enter And Be Riven. ... I Admire The Authority Of Being On One's Knees In Front Of The Event.

I Look Upon Another's Insistence On The Merits Of His Or Her Life - Duties, Intellect, Accomplishment - And See That Most Of It Is Nonsense.

Public Radio Is Alive And Kicking, It Always Has Been

In New York One Lives In The Moment Rather More Than Socrates Advised, So That At A Party Or Alone In Your Room It Will Always Be Difficult To Guess At The Long Term Worth Of Anything.