The Essence Of Intelligence Was To Know

We Seldom Know What We're Hearing When We Hear Something For The First Time, But One Thing Is Certain: We Hear It As We Will Never Hear It Again. We Return To The Moment To Experience It, I Suppose, But We Can Never Really Find It, Only Its Memory, The Faintest Imprint Of What Really Was, What It Meant.

Sometimes, In Life, Nothing Happens. But, Sometimes, Nothing Happens Beautifully.

I Have Different Books For Different Times Of The Day, Let Alone Different Seasons Of The Year!

He Looks Like The Sort Of Man Who Can't Afford To Leave, And Doesn't Want To Stay, And So He Is Doing Both At Once.

What Was A Life Anyway? An Accumulation Of Small Shelves Of Incident.