The Amateur Tweets. The Pro Works.

If You Were Meant To Cure Cancer Or Crack Cold Fusion And You Don't Do It, You Not Only Hurt Yourself, Even Destroy Yourself. You Hurt Your Children, You Hurt Me, You Hurt The Planet. You Shame The Angels Who Watch Over You And You Spite God Almighty, Who Created You And Only You With Your Unique Gifts, For The Sole Purpose Of Nudging The Human Race One Millimeter Further Along Its Path Back To God.

The Professional, Though He Accepts Money, Does His Work Out Of Love. He Has To Love It. Otherwise He Wouldn’t Devote His Life To It Of His Own Free Will.

Concerning All Acts Of Initiative There Is One Elementary Truth, The Ignorance Of Which Kills Countless Ideas And Splendid Plans: That The Moment One Definitely Commits Oneself, Then Providence Moves Too.

The Artist Must Be Like That Marine. He Has To Know How To Be Miserable. He Has To Love Being Miserable. He Has To Take Pride In Being More Miserable Than Any Soldier Or Swabbie Or Jet Jockey. Because This Is War, Baby. And War Is Hell.

Resistance Is Implacable, Intractable, Indefatigable.