I Don't Give A Damn What Other

I Never Think Of Myself As Wise. I Think Of Myself As Possessing A Critical Intelligence Which I Intend To Allow To Operate.

Do The Structures Of Language And The Structures Of Reality (by Which I Mean What Actually Happens) Move Along Parallel Lines? Does Reality Essentially Remain Outside Language, Separate, Obdurate, Alien, Not Susceptible To Description? Is An Accurate And Vital Correspondence Between What Is And Our Perception Of It Impossible? Or Is It That We Are Obliged To Use Language Only In Order To Obscure And Distort Reality -- To Distort What Happens -- Because We Fear It?

There Are No Hard Distinctions Between What Is Real And What Is Unreal, Nor Between What Is True And What Is False. A Thing Is Not Necessarily Either True Or False; It Can Be Both True And False.

One Is And Is Not In The Centre Of The Maelstrom Of It All.

The Room I Wrote In 1957, And I Was Really Gratified To Find That It Stood Up. I Didn't Have To Change A Word.