There Is A Way To Master Silence

No One Can Ever Heap Enough Insults Upon Me To Suit My Taste. I Think We All Really Thrive On Hostility, Because It's The Most Intense Kind Of Massage The Ego Can Undergo. Other People's Indifference Is The Only Horror.

That Was What He Wanted, To Be Baked Dry And Hard, To Feel The Vaporous Worries Evaporating One By One, To Know Finally That All The Damp Little Doubts And Hesitations That Covered The Floor Of His Being Were Curling Up And Expiring In The Great Furnace-blast Of The Sun.

I Wanted To Meet Other Artists. I Suppose I Simply Felt That I Was Taking Pot Shots At Clay Pipes. Pop! Down Goes Gertrude, Down Goes Jean Cocteau, Down Goes André Gide.

Since The World Began Has Any Man Ever Been Able To Know What Would Happen Tomorrow? The World Of Men Is Today. I'm Asking You To Open Your Heart Today. Tomorrow Belongs To Allah.

Because We Don't Know When We Will Die, We Get To Think Of Life As An Inexhaustible Well. Yet Everything Happens Only A Certain Number Of Times, And A Very Small Number Really. How Many More Times Will You Remember A Certain Afternoon Of Your Childhood, An Afternoon That Is So Deeply A Part Of Your Being That You Can't Even Conceive Of Your Life Without It? Perhaps Four Or Five Times More, Perhaps Not Even That. How Many More Times Will You Watch The Full Moon Rise? Perhaps 20. And Yet It All Seems Limitless.