Write. Write Until It Stops Hurting.

Innocence Was Gone From All Our Acts. Our Habitual State Of Rebellion Became A Serious Political Crime.

The Self Is Merely The Lens Through Which We See Others And The World.

One Discovers That Destiny Can Be Diverted, That One Does Not Have To Remain In Bondage To The First Wax Imprint Made On Childhood Sensibilities. Once The Deforming Mirror Has Been Smashed, There Is A Possibility Of Wholeness. There Is A Possibility Of Joy.

The Secret Of Joy Is The Mastery Of Pain.

The Creative Personality Never Remains Fixed On The First World It Discovers. It Never Resigns Itself To Anything.