To Be Any Sort Of Competent Writer

He Who Cries, 'what Do I Care About Universality? I Only Know What Is In Me,' Does Not Know Even That.

In Books, As In Life, There Are No Second Chances. On Second Thought: Its The Next Work, Still To Be Written, That Offers The Second Chance.

The Engineering Is Secondary To The Vision.

Why Do Men Carry Guns And Build Prison Camps, When The Nurturing Earth Is Made For Freedom?

The Butterfly Lures Us Not Only Because He Is Beautiful, But Because He Is Transitory. The Caterpillar Is Uglier, But In Him We Can Regard The Better Joy Of Becoming.