Love is a piano dropped from a fourth story window and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We know too much and are convinced of too little. Our literature is a substitute for religion and so is our religion.
Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs rising or falling grasping...
The last thing one discovers in composing a work is what to put first.
It is only in the world of objects that we have time and space and selves.
Nothing is more dead and dated than the book which once caused...
The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell...
I want to ask those who are aiding terror, what do...
