I Don't Think We Should Read For

For The Moment I Can Think Of Nothing— Except That I Am A Sentient Being Stabbed By The Miracle Of These Waters That Reflect A Forgotten World.

Through Endless Night The Earth Whirls Toward A Creation Unknown.

Forget The Books You Want To Write. Think Only Of The Book You Are Writing.

That We Cannot Rise Equal To Situations When We Are In Them — That Is The Tragedy Of Life.

The City Grows Like A Cancer; I Must Grow Like A Sun. The City Eats Deeper And Deeper Into The Red; It Is An Insatiable White Louse Which Must Die Eventually Of Inanition. I Am Going To Starve The White Louse Which Is Eating Me Up. I Am Going To Die As A City In Order To Become Again A Man. Therefore I Close My Ears, My Eyes, My Mouth.