I Don't Think Anything Changes Until Ideas

We Are Driven By The Results Of The Big Bang, Billions Of Years Ago, Which Eventually Produced Life, Which Eventually Produced Human Beings, And So On. But Me? I'm An Accident - A Result - And Therefore A Victim.

Well, If I'm Only A Result Of Past Causes, Then I'm A Victim Of Those Past Causes. There Is No Deeper Meaning Behind Things That Gives Me A Reason To Be Here.

I Have Found That The Person With A Sense Of Story Built In From Childhood Is In Better Shape Than One Who Has Not Had Stories . . One Knows What Stories Can Do, How They Can Make Up Worlds And Transpose Existence Into These Worlds. . . .one Learns That Worlds Are Made By Words And Not Only By Hammers And Wires.

Why Do We Focus So Intensely On Our Problems? What Draws Us To Them? Why Are They So Attractive? They Have The Magnet Power Of Love: Somehow We Desire Our Problems; We Are In Love With Them Much As We Want To Get Rid Of Them . . . Problems Sustain Us -- Maybe That's Why They Don't Go Away. What Would A Life Be Without Them? Completely Tranquilized And Loveless . . . There Is A Secret Love Hiding In Each Problem

I Think The Worst Atmosphere For A Six-year-old Is One In Which There Are No Expectations Whatsoever. That Is, It's Worse For The Child To Grow Up In A Vacuum Where "whatever You Do Is Alright, I'm Sure You'll Succeed." That Is A Statement Of Disinterest. It Says, "i Really Have No Fantasies For You At All."