To Feel. To Trust The

Most Of My Conscious Efforts Have Ended In Embarrassing Failure.

Old Age Is Like Climbing A Mountain. You Climb From Ledge To Ledge. The Higher You Get, The More Tired And Breathless You Become, But Your Views Become More Extensive.

I Have Always Had The Ability To Attach My Demons To My Chariot.

First, I Write Down All I Know About The Story, At Length And In Detail. Then I Sink The Iceberg And Let Some Of It Float Up Just A Little.

Then I Felt That Every Inflection Of My Voice, Every Word In My Mouth, Was A Lie, A Play Whose Sole Purpose Was To Cover Emptiness And Boredom. There Was Only One Way I Could Avoid A State Of Despair And A Breakdown. To Be Silent. And To Reach Behind The Silence For Clarity Or At Least Try To Collect The Resources That Might Still Be Available To Me.