If I Were Not A Writer, I

And At The Place Where Time Stands Still, One Sees Lovers Kissing In The Shadows Of Buildings, In A Frozen Embrace That Will Never Let Go. The Loved One Will Never Take His Arms From Where They Are Now, Will Never Give Back The Bracelet Of Memories, Will Never Journey Afar From His Lover, Will Never Place Himself In Danger Of Self-sacrifice, Will Never Fail To Show His Love, Will Never Become Jealous, Will Never Fall In Love With Someone Else, Will Never Lose The Passion Of This Instant Of Time.

Suppose Time Is A Circle, Bending Back On Itself. The World Repeats Itself, Precisely, Endlessly.

Imagine A World In Which There Is No Time. Only Images.

My Second Novel, "good Benito", Was Not Finished. I Wished That I Had Spent Another Year With It.

I Think People All Over The Institution Recognize That Different Ways Of Understanding Are Valuable. Artists May Think In A Different Way Than Biologists Or Chemists, But You Can Learn Something From That. It Is True That The Arts At Mit Don't Have The Same Amount Of Funding Or Same Status As The Sciences Or Engineering.