I Was Twelve When I Read My

Don't Try To Solve Serious Matters In The Middle Of The Night.

For Each Person There Is A Sentence—a Series Of Words—which Has The Power To Destroy Them.

My Major Preoccupation Is The Question, 'what Is Reality?'

I Was Twelve When I Read My First Sf Magazine

Life Is Short, He Thought. Art, Or Something Not Life, Is Long, Stretching Out Endless, Like [a] Concrete Worm. Flat, White, Unsmoothed By Any Passage Over Or Across It.