From The First Place Of Liquid Darkness,

The Only Certainty About Writing And Trying To Be A Writer Is That It Has To Be Done, Not Dreamed Of Or Planned And Never Written, Or Talked About (the Ego Eventually Falls Apart Like A Soaked Sponge), But Simply Written; It's A Dreadful, Awful Fact That Writing Is Like Any Other Work.

I Don't Wish To Inhabit The Human World Under False Pretences.

It Would Be Nice To Travel If You Knew Where You Were Going And Where You Would Live At The End Or Do We Ever Know, Do We Ever Live Where We Live, We're Always In Other Places, Lost, Like Sheep.

People Dread Silence Because It Is Transparent; Like Clear Water, Which Reveals Every Obstacle—the Used, The Dead, The Drowned, Silence Reveals The Cast-off Words And Thoughts Dropped In To Obscure Its Clear Stream. And When People Stare Too Close To Silence They Sometimes Face Their Own Reflections, Their Magnified Shadows In The Depths, And That Frightens Them. I Know; I Know.

Very Often The Law Of Extremity Demands An Attention To Irrelevance.