The Best Way To Live

We Are What We Have Been Told About Ourselves. We Are The Sum Of The Messages We Have Received. The True Messages. The False Messages.

Is Death That Which Gives Meaning To Life?

We Like Books That Have A Lot Of Dreck In Them, Matter Which Presents Itself As Not Wholly Relevant (or Indeed, At All Relevant) But Which, Carefully Attended To, Can Supply A Kind Of "sense" Of What Is Going On. This "sense" Is Not To Be Obtained By Reading Between The Lines (for There Is Nothing There, In Those White Spaces) But By Reading The Lines Themselves Looking At Them And So Arriving At A Feeling Not Of Satisfaction Exactly, That Is Too Much To Expect, But Of Having Read Them, Of Having "completed" Them.

And I Sat There Getting Drunker And Drunker And More In Love And More In Love...and You Can Never Touch A Girl In The Same Way More Than Once, Twice, Or Another Number Of Times However Much You May Wish To Hold, Wrap, Or Otherwise Fix Her Hand, Or Look, Or Some Other Quality, Or Incident, Known To You Previously.

Art Is Not Difficult Because It Wishes To Be Difficult, But Because It Wishes To Be Art.