I Saw Myself Driving Through

Could We Change Our Attitude, We Should Not Only See Life Differently, But Life Itself Would Come To Be Different.

Ach, Tchekov! Why Are You Dead? Why Can’t I Talk To You In A Big Darkish Room At Late Evening—where The Light Is Green From The Waving Trees Outside? I’d Like To Write A Series Of Heavens: That Would Be One.

How Idiotic Civilization Is! Why Be Given A Body If You Have To Keep It Shut Up In A Case Like A Rare, Rare Fiddle?

I Always Felt That The Great High Privilege, Relief And Comfort Of Friendship Was That One Had To Explain Nothing.

England Is Merely An Island Of Beef Swimming In A Warm Gulf Stream Of Gravy.