The Past Is Never Where You Think

Even St. Teresa Said, "i Can Pray Better When I'm Comfortable," And She Refused To Wear Her Haircloth Shirt Or Starve Herself. I Don't Think Living In Cellars And Starving Is Better For An Artist Than It Is For Anybody Else.

It Is My Firm Belief That All Our Lives We Are Preparing To Be Somebody Or Something, Even If We Don't Do It Consciously. And The Time Comes One Morning When You Wake Up And Find That You Have Become Irrevocably What You Were Preparing All This Time To Be.

I Want To Live In A World Capital Or The Howling Wilderness.

In This Moment She Felt That She Had Been Robbed Of An Enormous Number Of Valuable Things, Whether Material Or Intangible: Things Lost Or Broken By Her Own Fault, Things She Had Forgotten And Left In Houses When She Moved: Books Borrowed From Her And Not Returned, Journeys She Had Planned And Had Not Made, Words She Had Waited To Hear Spoken To Her And Had Not Heard, And The Words She Meant To Answer With. . . .

The Arts Do Live Continuously, And They Live Literally By Faith; Their Names And Their Shapes And Their Uses And Their Basic Meanings Survive Unchanged In All That Matters Through Times Of Interruption, Diminishment, Neglect; They Outlive Governments And Creeds And The Societies, Even The Very Civilization That Produced Them. They Cannot Be Destroyed Altogether Because They Represent The Substance Of Faith And The Only Reality. They Are What We Find Again When The Ruins Are Cleared Away.