... Too Much Brooding, Not Enough Doing.

Everyone Who’s Born Has Come From The Sea. Your Mother’s Womb Is Just A Sea In Small. And Birds Come Of Seas On Eggs. Horses Lie In The Sea Before They’re Born. The Placenta Is The Sea. Your Blood Is The Sea Continued In Your Veins. We Are The Ocean — Walking On The Land.

And What You Do Is You Go Into Where Your Anger Is, If You're Writing Anger, You Go Into Where Your Hatred Is, If You're Writing Hatred. Your Joy Is, If You're Writing Joy. You Find The Source Of The Energy That Draws Hatred, Anger, Joy, Etc., Etc., Etc. That's What You Have To Find. That's What You Do As An Actor And That's What You Do As A Writer. And You Bring People To The Page.

All Of This Happened A Long Time Ago. But Not So Long Ago That Everyone Who Played A Part In It Is Dead. Some Can Still Be Met In Dark Old Rooms With Nurses In Attendance.

Time Is Light, Time Is Dark. You Either Dance, Or You Fall.

The Spaces Between The Perceiver And The Thing Perceived Can [...] Be Closed With A Shout Of Recognition.