I Write Emotional Algebra.

Guilt Is The One Burden Human Beings Can't Bear Alone.

The Inner Chambers Of The Soul Are Like The Photographer's Darkroom. Like A Laboratory. One Cannot Stay There All The Time Or It Becomes The Solitary Cell Of The Neurotic.

I Must Know, He Thinks. It Must Be Clear To Me. There Is A World Which Is Closed To Him, A World Of Shadings, Gradations, Nuances, And Subtleties. He Is A Genius And Yet He Is Too Explicit. June Slips Between His Fingers. You Cannot Posses Without Loving.

The Self Is Merely The Lens Through Which We See Others And The World.

I Find That Life, Day By Day, Is Composed Of At Least One Joy, One Problem And One Sorrow. Then There Are The Smaller Ingredients: You Always Learn Something, Whether Useful Or Harmful - That Is Difficult To Analyze Until Later; You Always Give Something; You Alwayou Always Grow A Little In One Direction Or Another.