I'm Not A Philosopher.

I Think The Only Person A Writer Has An Obligation To Is Himself. If What I Write Doesn't Fulfill Something In Me, If I Don't Honestly Feel It's The Best I Can Do, Then I'm Miserable.

There Is No Shame — Having A Dirty Face — The Shame Comes When You Keep It Dirty.

But It's Sunday, Mr. Bell. Clocks Are Slow On Sundays.

Before Birth; Yes, What Time Was It Then? A Time Like Now, And When They Were Dead, It Would Be Still Like Now: These Trees, That Sky, This Earth, Those Acorn Seeds, Sun And Wind, All The Same, While They, With Dust-turned Hearts, Change Only.

If You Can't Be Friends With A Lover, Then Forget It. It's Not Going To Work.