Being Other Than Normal Is A Perilous

I'm Fond Of Human Beings, But Only One At A Time.

Seeking Revenge: What A Lack Of Foresight.

At First, When An Idea, A Poem, Or The Desire To Write Takes Hold Of You, Work Is A Pleasure, A Delight, And Your Enthusiasm Knows No Bounds. But Later On You Work With Difficulty, Doggedly, Desperately. For Once You Have Committed Yourself To A Particular Work, Inspiration Changes Its Form And Becomes An Obsession, Like A Love-affair… Which Haunts You Night And Day! Once At Grips With A Work, We Must Master It Completely Before We Can Recover Our Idleness.

Our Prejudices, Our Antipathies, Are Our Natural Defenses Against What We Could Not Assimilate.

There Are. Intangible Realities Which Float Near Us, Formless And Without Words; Realities Which No One Has Thought Out, And Which Are Excluded For Lack Of Interpreters.