Every Second, Ten Stars Set Behind The

Fiction Should Always Steer Clear Of Political Considerations.

He Awoke, Opened His Eye. The Room Meant Very Little To Him; He Was Too Deeply Immersed In The Non-being From Which He Had Just Come. If He Had Not The Energy To Ascertain His Position In Time And Space, He Also Lacked The Desire. ... In Utter Comfort, Utter Relaxation He Lay Absolutely Still For A While, And Then Sank Back Into On The The Light Momentary Sleeps That Occur After A Long, Profound One.

[a]nother Important Difference Between Tourist And Traveler Is That The Former Accepts His Own Civilization Without Question; Not So The Traveler, Who Compares It With The Others, And Rejects Those Elements He Finds Not To His Liking.

Whereas The Tourist Generally Hurries Back Home At The End Of A Few Weeks Or Months, The Traveler Belonging No More To One Place Than To The Next, Moves Slowly Over Periods Of Years, From One Part Of The Earth To Another. Indeed, He Would Have Found It Difficult To Tell, Among The Many Places He Had Lived, Precisely Where It Was He Had Felt Most At Home.

Although I Knew Enough Freud To Believe That The Sex Urge Was An Important Mainspring Of Life, It Still Seemed To Me That Any Conscious Manifestation Of Sex Was Necessarily Ludicrous. Defecation And Copulation Were Two Activities Which Made A Human Being Totally Ridiculous. At Least The Former Could Be Conducted In Private, But The Latter By Definition Demanded A Partner. I Discovered, Though, That Whenever I Ventured This Opinion, People Took It As A Joke.