Childhood, After All, Is Not An Ending,

Hope Is Like One Of Those Orchids That Grows Around Toxic Waste: Lovely In Itself - And An Assertion, If You Like, Of Indefatigable Good - But A Sure Sign That Something Nasty Lies Underneath.

It Is Interesting How Keen People Are For You To Do Something They Would Never Dream Of Doing Themselves, How Enthusiasticall Y They Drive You To Your Own Destruction.

The True Self Seeks Release, Not Constraint. It Doesnt Want To Be Corseted In A Sonnet Or Made To Learn A System Of Musical Notations. It Wants Liberation, Which Is Why Very Often It Fastens On The Novel, For The Novel Seems Spacious, Undefined, Free.

Parenthood, Like Death, Is An Event For Which It Is Nearly Impossible To Be Prepared. It Brings You Into A New Relationship With The Fact Of Your Own Existence, A Relationship In Which One May Be Rendered Helpless.

Childhood, After All, Is Not An Ending, But Rather A State Full Of Potent Curiosity.