We Talked For Hours. He Talked And

Science Disembodies; Art Embodies.

One Degrades Oneself Sometimes In The Effort Not To Be Lonely.

The Supposed Great Misery Of Our Century Is The Lack Of Time.

The Word Is The Most Imprecise Of Signs. Only A Science-obsessed Age Could Fail To Comprehend That This Is Its Great Virtue, Not Its Defect.

The Craving To Risk Death Is Our Last Great Perversion. We Come From Night, We Go Into Night. Why Live In Night?