I Think Of My Pile Of Old

An Artist's Concern Is To Capture Beauty Wherever He Finds It.

My Donors Have Always Tended To Do Much Better Than Expected.

You're Always In A Rush, Or Else You're Too Exhausted To Have A Proper Conversation. Soon Enough, The Long Hours, The Traveling, The Broken Sleep Have All Crept Into Your Being And Become Part Of You, So Everyone Can See It, In Your Posture, Your Gaze, The Way You Move And Talk.

I Quizzed Him A Lot On This Point And I Suspect The Truth Was That It Was Like A Lot Of Things At That Age: You Don't Have Any Clear Reason, You Just Do It. You Do It Because You Think It Might Get A Laugh, Or Because You Want To See If It'll Cause A Stir. And When You're Asked To Explain Afterwards, It Doesn't Seem To Make Any Sense.

What Is The Point Of Worrying Oneself Too Much About What One Could Or Could Not Have Done To Control The Course One's Life Took? Surely It Is Enough That The Likes Of You And I At Least Try To Make Our Small Contribution Count For Something True And Worthy. And If Some Of Us Are Prepared To Sacrifice Much In Life In Order To Pursue Such Aspirations, Surely That In Itself, Whatever The Outcome, Cause For Pride And Contentment.