The Terrible Thing About The Internet And

Indolence Of Course Is An Absolutely Crucial Part Of The Creative Process: You Do Not Find Poets Sitting In Rows In Cavernous Word Factories, Staring At Screens. They Are Rather To Be Found Lolling On The Sofa Or Strolling Through The Groves, Nursing Their Melancholic Temperaments And Losing Themselves In Extended Reveries.

The Best Thing That Can Happen To Anybody Is To Be Sacked Or Made Redundant Because Often That's When You Think, "i Don't Want To Become One Of The Living Dead. I Haven't Got Anything To Lose, Now I Can Start To Follow My Own Dreams."

Self-importance Is A Trap, Because The Moment We Start To Think That We Actually Matter Is The Moment When Things Start To Go Wrong. The Truth Is That You Are Supremely Unimportant And Nothing Matters. All Of Man's Striving Is For Nothing; All Effort Is Wasted. To Realize That Everything Is Meaningless Is Tremendously Liberating, Since It Then Leaves Us Completely Free To Create Our Own Lives And Ignore The Plans That Others Have For Us.

Surely, Anyway, A Working Day Of Eight Or Nine Hours Which Is Not Split By A Nap Is Simply Too Much For A Human Being To Take, Day In, Day Out, And Particularly So In Hot Weather.

In This Age Of Getting What You Want And Getting It Now, The Simple Pleasure Of Browsing Is Often Forgotten.