The Whole World Shall Be Ours Because

What Can You Do If You Are Thirty And, Turning The Corner Of Your Own Street, You Are Overcome, Suddenly, By A Feeling Of Bliss - Absolute Bliss - As Though You'd Suddenly Swallowed A Bright Piece Of That Late Afternoon Sun And It Burned In Your Bosom, Sending Out A Little Shower Of Sparks Into Every Particle Into Every Finger And Toe?

If You Wish To Live, You Must First Attend Your Own Funeral.

Everything In Life That We Really Accept Undergoes A Change.

I Think I Hate Snow, Downright Hate It. There Is Something Stupefying In It, A Kind Of 'you Must Be Worse Before You're Better,' And Down It Spins.

To Acknowledge The Presence Of Fear Is To Give Birth To Failure.