Now When I Die, I Shall Only

He Stood There For A Moment Looking Around The Silent Room, Shaking His Head Slowly. All These Books, He Thought, The Residue Of A Planet’s Intellect, The Scrapings Of Futile Minds, The Leftovers, The Potpourri Of Artifacts That Had No Power To Save Men From Perishing.

I Had To Write About Realistic Circumstances. Thats The Way My Brain Works. And I Think That Gave Me A Sort Of Place In The Field.

…those Who’ve Marred Their Appearance In Any Way By Their Actions In Life Aren’t Forced To Witness That Marring. If They Were, They’d Become Self-conscious And Be Unable To Concentrate On Improving Themselves.

It Is My Conviction That Basic Reality Is Not All That Perplexing. What Seems Difficult To Assimilate Are The Manifold Details Of Reality, Not Its Fundamental Elements.

Failures Plagued Me. Things I Had Omitted Or Ignored, Neglected. What I Should Have Given And Hadn’t. I Felt The Biting Pang Of Every Unfulfillment.