You Don't Know What You're

There Is More In A Human Life Than Our Theories Of It Allow. Sooner Or Later Something Seems To Call Us Onto A Particular Path. You May Remember This "something" As A Signal Moment In Childhood When An Urge Out Of Nowhere, A Fascination, A Peculiar Turn Of Events Struck Like An Annunciation: This Is What I Must Do, This Is What I've Got To Have. This Is Who I Am.

I Sometimes Get Short-tempered In A Public Situation Because I Think, Oh God, I Can't Go Back Over That Again. I Can't Put That Into A Two-word Answer. I Can't. Wherever I Go, People Say, "can I Ask You A Quick Question?" It's Always, "a Quick Question." Well, My Answers Are Slow.

The Idea Of Death Robs Inquiry Of Its Passionate Vitality And Empties Our Efforts Of Their Purpose By Coming To One Predestined Conclusion, Death. Why Inquire If You Already Know The Answer?

The Whole Culture Is Under Terrible Pressure And Fraught With Worry. It's Hard To Get Out Of That Box. That's The Dominant Situation All Over The World.

I Like To Imagine A Person's Psyche To Be Like A Boardinghouse Full Of Characters. The Ones Who Show Up Regularly And Who Habitually Follow The House Rules May Not Have Met Other Long-term Residents Who Stay Behind Closed Doors, Or Who Only Appear At Night. An Adequate Theory Of Character Must Make Room For Character Actors, For The Stuntmen And Animal Handlers, For All The Figures Who Play Bit Parts And Produce Unexpected Acts. They Often Make The Show Fateful, Or Tragic, Or Farcically Absurd.