You Have A Conscience, And A Conscience

I Cannot And Do Not Live In The World Of Discretion, Not As A Writer, Anyway. I Would Prefer To, I Assure You - It Would Make Life Easier. But Discretion Is, Unfortunately, Not For Novelists.

In My Childhood I Led The Life Of A Sage, When I Grew Up I Started Climbing Trees

The Secret To Living In The Rush Of The World With A Minimum Of Pain Is To Get As Many People As Possible To String Along With Your Delusions; The Trick To Living Alone Up Here, Away From All Agitating Entanglements, Allurements, And Expectations, Apart Especially From One's Own Intensity, Is To Organize The Silence, To Think Of Its Mountaintop Plenitude As Capital, Silence As Wealth Exponentially Increasing. The Encircling Silence As Your Chosen Source Of Advantage And Your Only Intimate.

Any Satirist Writing A Futuristic Novel Who Had Imagined A President Reagan During The Eisenhower Years Would Have Been Accused Of Perpetrating A Piece Of Crude, Contemptible, Adolescent, Anti-american Wickedness, When, In Fact, He Would Have Succeeded, As Prophetic Sentry, Where Orwell Failed.

I Know I'm Not Going To Write As Well As I Used To. I No Longer Have The Stamina To Endure The Frustration. Writing Is Frustration - It's Daily Frustration, Not To Mention Humiliation.