People Always Try To Find

The Human Comedy Does Not Attract Me Enough. I Am Not Entirely Of This World. I Am From Elsewhere, And It Is Worth Finding This Elsewhere Beyond The Walls...but Where Is It?

The Light Of Memory, Or Rather The Light That Memory Lends To Things, Is The Palest Light Of All. I Am Not Quite Sure Whether I Am Dreaming Or Remembering, Whether I Have Lived My Life Or Dreamed It. Just As Dreams Do, Memory Makes Me Profoundly Aware Of The Unreality, The Evanescence Of The World, A Fleeting Image In The Moving Water.

If One Does Not Understand The Usefulness Of The Useless And The Uselessness Of The Useful, One Cannot Understand Art.

Language Should Almost Break Up Or Explode In Its Fruitless Effort To Contain So Many Meanings.

Mediocrity Is More Dangerous In A Critic Than In A Writer.