Mother Died Today. Or Maybe Yesterday; I

It Is Natural To Give A Clear View Of The World After Accepting The Idea That It Must Be Clear.

After All Perhaps The Greatness Of Art Lies In The Perpetual Tension Between Beauty And Pain, The Love Of Men And The Madness Of Creation, Unbearable Solitude And The Exhausting Crowd, Rejection And Consent.

Even When One Sits In The Prisoner's Dock, It Is Interesting To Hear Talk About Oneself.

Do You Believe In God, Doctor?" No - But What Does That Really Mean? I'm Fumbling In The Dark, Struggling To Make Something Out. But I've Long Ceased Finding That Original.

Only He Who Is Uncompromising As To His Rights Maintains The Sense Of Duty.