The Abstract Kills, The Concrete Saves.

Hour By Hour, Day By Day, Life Becomes Possible.

I Feel That Very Strongly: Having Been An Academic, Having Been Tempted By The Invitation To Stay On To Become A Ph.d., A Professor, And All That, One Side Of Me Certainly Does Respect All Disciplines, As Long As They Don't Ossify.

The Slime Of All My Yesterdays Rots In The Hollow Of My Skull.

I Dream Too Much, Work Too Little.

Perhaps Some Day I'll Crawl Back Home, Beaten, Defeated. But Not As Long As I Can Make Stories Out Of My Heartbreak, Beauty Out Of Sorrow.