Straight Ahead You Can't Go Very Far.

The Job Has Its Grandeurs, Yes. There Is The Exultation Of Arriving Safely After A Storm, The Joy Of Gliding Down Out Of The Darkness Of Night Or Tempest Toward A Sun-drenched Alicante Or Santiago; There Is The Swelling Sense Of Returning To Repossess One's Place In Life, In The Miraculous Garden Of Earth, Where Are Trees And Women And, Down By The Harbor, Friendly Little Bars. When He Has Throttled His Engine And Is Banking Into The Airport, Leaving The Somber Cloud Masses Behind, What Pilot Does Not Break Into Song?

Action And Personal Happiness Have No Truck With Each Other; They Are Eternally At War.

My Drawing Was Not A Picture Of A Hat. It Was A Picture Of A Boa Constrictor Digesting An Elephant.

Once You Are My Friend, I Am Responsible For You.

Behind All Seen Things Lies Something Vaster; Everything Is But A Path, A Portal Or A Window Opening On Something Other Than Iteself.