Consciously Cultivate The Ordinary.

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.

Bourbon Does For Me What The Piece Of Cake Did For Proust.

I Am Not Ashamed To Use The Word Class. I Will Also Plead Guilty To Another Charge. The Charge Is That People Belonging To My Class Think They're Better Than Other People. You're Damn Right We're Better. We're Better Because We Do Not Shirk Our Obligations Either To Ourselves Or To Others. . . .we Live By Our Lights, We Die By Our Lights, And Whoever The High Gods May Be, We'll Look Them In The Eye Without Apology.

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.

Small Disconnected Facts, If You Take Note Of Them, Have A Way Of Becoming Connected.