Characters More Or Less Present Themselves To

The Old Man Always Said We Should Attend To The Things We Have Some Hope Of Understanding, And Eternity Isn't One Of Them. Well, This World Isn't One Either.

I Think To The Degree Writers Are Serious, There Is A Greater Tendency For Them To Write To Themselves, Because They're Trying To Compose Their Own Thoughts. They Are Trying To Find Out What Is In Their Minds, Which Is The Great Mystery. Finding Out Who You Are, What Is In Your Head, And What Kind Of Companion You Are To Yourself In The Course Of Life. I Do Think People Have Very Profound Lives Of Which They Say Virtually Nothing.

Many Times When I Stop Working On A Problem Consciously, My Mind Continues To Work On It Below The Surface. Often Solutions Come On Me Quite By Surprise. I've Learned Over Time To Allow That To Happen, Rather Than To Feel That I Can Simply Solve The Problem By Continuous, Grueling Effort.

A Letter Makes Ordinary Things Seem Important.

Everything That Falls Upon The Eye Is Apparition, A Sheet Dropped Over The World's True Workings. The Nerves And The Brain Are Tricked, And One Is Left With Dreams That These Specters Loose Their Hands From Ours And Walk Away, The Curve Of The Back And The Swing Of The Coat So Familiar As To Imply That They Should Be Permanent Fixtures Of The World, When In Fact Nothing Is More Perishable.