We Look Too Much To Museums. The

Please, A Definition: A Hibernation Is A Covert Preparation For A More Overt Action.

So Why Do I Write, Torturing Myself To Put It Down? Because In Spite Of Myself I've Learned Some Things. Without The Possibility Of Action, All Knowledge Comes To One Labeled "file And Forget," And I Can Neither File Nor Forget. Nor Will Certain Ideas Forget Me; They Keep Filing Away At My Lethargy, My Complacency. Why Should I Be The One To Dream This Nightmare?

The Act Of Writing Requires A Constant Plunging Back Into The Shadow Of The Past Where Time Hovers Ghostlike.

And I Knew That It Was Better To Live Out One's Absurdity Than To Die For That Of Others.

The Antidote To Hubris, To Overweening Pride, Is Irony, That Capacity To Discover And Systematize Ideas.