Friendship Is Born From An Identity Of

Life Always Bursts The Boundaries Of Formulas. Defeat May Prove To Have Been The Only Path To Resurrection, Despite Its Ugliness. I Take It For Granted That To Create A Tree I Condemn A Seed To Rot. If The First Act Of Resistance Comes Too Late It Is Doomed To Defeat. But It Is, Nevertheless, The Awakening Of Resistance. Life May Grow From It As From A Seed.

Night, When Words Fade And Things Come Alive.

My Senses Of Space, Of Distance, And Of Direction Entirely Vanished. When I Looked For The Ground I Sometimes Looked Down, Sometimes Up, Sometimes Left, Sometimes Right. I Thought I Was Very High Up When I Would Suddenly Be Thown To Earth In A Near Vertical Spin. I Thought I Was Very Low To The Ground And I Was Pulled Up To 3,000 Feet In Two Minutes By The 500-horsepower Motor. It Danced, It Pushed, It Tossed. . . . Ah! La La!

If I Were To Command A General To Turn Into A Seagull, And If The General Did Not Obey, That Would Not Be The General's Fault. It Would Be Mine.

Perhaps Creativity Is Fumbling That Dance Step, Or Driving The Chisel The Wrong Way Into The Stone.