I Will Start Out This Evening With

When I'm Writing A Book I Prefer Not To Speak About It, Because Only When The Book Is Finished Can I Try To Understand What I've Really Done And To Compare My Intentions With The Result.

You Walk For Days Among Trees And Among Stones. Rarely Does The Eye Light On A Thing, And Then Only When It Has Recognized That Thing As The Sign Of Another Thing: A Print In The Sand Indicates The Tiger's Passage; A Marsh Announces A Vein Of Water; The Hibiscus Flower, The End Of Winter. All The Rest Is Silent And Interchangeable; Trees And Stones Are Only What They Are.

What Romantic Terminology Called Genius Or Talent Or Inspiration Is Nothing Other Than Finding The Right Road Empirically, Following One's Nose, Taking Shortcuts.

It Is Within You That The Ghosts Acquire Voices.

Today Each Of You Is The Object Of The Other’s Reading, One Reads In The Other The Unwritten Story.