He Dares Not Concern Himself

We Are Too Kind, Too Willing--too Unwilling Too--reaching Out Blindly With A Grasping Hand But Not Knowing How To Ask For What We Don't Even Know We Want.

Words Are Our Life. We Are Human Because We Use Language. So I Think We Are Less Human When We Use Less Language.

In One Day I Had Altered My Life; My Life, Therefore, Was Alterable. This Simple Axiom Did Not Call Out For Exegesis; No, It Entered My Bloodstream Directly, As Powerful As Heroin. I Could Feel It Pump And Surge, The Way It Brightened My Veins To A Kind Of Glass. I Had Wakened That Morning To Narrowness And Predestination And Now I Was Falling Asleep In The Storm Of My Own Free Will.

Bookish People, Who Are Often Maladroit People, Persist In Thinking They Can Master Any Subtlety So Long As It's Been Shaped Into Acceptable Expository Prose.

The Larger Loneliness Of Our Lives Evolves From Our Unwillingness To Spend Ourselves, Stir Ourselves. We Are Always Damping Down Our Inner Weather, Permitting Ourselves The Comforts Of Postponement, Of Rehearsals