Joy And Sadness Come By Turns.

It Is Not Merely The Truth Of Science That Makes It Beautiful, But Its Simplicity.

The Search Is What Anyone Would Undertake If He Were Not Sunk In The Everydayness Of His Own Life. To Become Aware Of The Possibility Of The Search Is To Be Onto Something. Not To Be Onto Something Is To Be In Despair.

It Makes People Nervous For One To Step Out Of One's Role.

For The World Is Broken, Sundered, Busted Down The Middle, Self Ripped From Self And Man Pasted Back Together As Mythical Monster, Half Angel, Half Beast, But No Man...some Day A Man Will Walk Into My Office As A Ghost Or Beast Or Ghost-beast And Walk Out As A Man, Which Is To Say Sovereign Wanderer, Lordly Exile, Worker And Waiter And Watcher.

If Poets Often Commit Suicide, It Is Not Because Their Poems Are Bad But Because They Are Good. Whoever Heard Of A Bad Poet Committing Suicide? The Reader Is Only A Little Better Off. The Exhilaration Of A Good Poem Lasts Twenty Minutes, An Hour At Most. Unlike The Scientist, The Artist Has Reentry Problems That Are Frequent And Catastrophic.