In Man's Struggle Against The World, Bet

Art Flies Around Truth, But With The Definite Intention Of Not Getting Burnt. Its Capacity Lies In Finding In The Dark Void A Place Where The Beam Of Light Can Be Intensely Caught, Without This Having Been Perceptible Before.

People Who Walk Across Dark Bridges, Past Saints, With Dim, Small Lights. Clouds Which Move Across Gray Skies Past Churches With Towers Darkened In The Dusk. One Who Leans Against Granite Railing Gazing Into The Evening Waters, His Hands Resting On Old Stones.

The Purpose Of A Story Is To Be An Axe That Breaks Up The Ice Within Us.

Torment Yourself As Little As Possible, Then You'll Torment Me Less.

Books Are A Narcotic.