I Prefer To Underwrite. Simple, Clear As

In My Garden, After A Rainfall, You Can Faintly, Yes, Hear The Breaking Of New Blooms.

Those Fellows, They're Always Crying Over Killers. Never A Thought For The Victims.

That's The Difference Between The Serious Artist And The Craftsman--the Craftsman Can Take Material And Because Of His Abilities Do A Professional Job Of It. The Serious Artist, Like Proust, Is Like An Object Caught By A Wave And Swept To Shore. He's Obsessed By His Material; It's Like A Venom Working In His Blood And The Art Is The Antidote.

As Long As You Live, There's Always Something Waiting; And Even If It's Bad, And You Know It's Bad, What Can You Do? You Can't Stop Living.

Most Secrets Should Never Be Told, But Especially Those That Are More Menacing To The Listener Than To The Teller.