Every Artist Is An Unhappy Lover.

There Is A Spider Called Amaurobius, Which Lives In A Burrow And Has Its Young In The Late Summer, And Then It Dies When The Frosts Begin, And The Young Spiders Live Through The Cold By Eating Their Mother's Dead Body. One Can't Believe That's An Accident. I Don't Know That I Imagined God As Having Thought It All Out, But Somehow He Was Connected With The Pattern, He Was The Pattern.

What A Test That Is: More Than Devotion, Admiration, Passion. If You Long And Long For Someone’s Company You Love Them.

He Was A Sociologist; He Had Got Into An Intellectual Muddle Early On In Life And Never Managed To Get Out.

All Art Deals With The Absurd And Aims At The Simple. Good Art Speaks Truth, Indeed Is Truth, Perhaps The Only Truth.

The Notion That One Will Not Survive A Particular Catastrophe Is, In General Terms, A Comfort Since It Is Equivalent To Abolishing The Catastrophe.