The Engineering Is Secondary To The Vision.

We Were Born To Die; We Were Born To Endure, On The Way To Death, Sorrow-sorrow In Manifold Shapes.

We Have Had, Alas, And Still Have, The Doubtful Habit Of Reverence. Above All, We Respect Things As They Are.

He Who Cries, 'what Do I Care About Universality? I Only Know What Is In Me,' Does Not Know Even That.

One Reason Writers Write Is Out Of Revenge. Life Hurts; Certain Ideas And Experiences Hurt; One Wants To Clarify, To Set Out Illuminations, To Replay The Old Bad Scenes And Get The Treppenworte Said -- The Words One Didn't Have The Strength Or Ripeness To Say When Those Words Were Necessary For One's Dignity Or Survival.

Two Things Remain Irretrievable: Time And A First Impression.