We Only See What We Look At.

It Is Comparatively Easy To Achieve A Certain Unity In A Picture By Allowing One Colour To Dominate, Or By Muting All The Colours. Matisse Did Neither. He Clashed His Colours Together Like Cymbals And The Effect Was Like A Lullaby.

The Happiness Of Being Envied Is Glamour. Being Envied Is A Solitary Form Of Reassurance. It Depends Precisely Upon Not Sharing Your Experience With Those Who Envy You. You Are Observed With Interest But You Do Not Observe With Interest - If You Do, You Will Become Less Enviable. In This Respect The Envied Are Like Bureaucrats; The More Impersonal They Are, The Greater The Illusion (for Themselves And For Others) Of Their Power. The Power Of The Glamorous Resides In Their Supposed Happiness: The Power Of The Bureaucrat In His Supposed Authority.

When We Read A Story, We Inhabit It. The Covers Of The Book Are Like A Roof And Four Walls. What Is To Happen Next Will Take Place Within The Four Walls Of The Story. And This Is Possible Because The Story's Voice Makes Everything Its Own.

Modern Thought Has Transferred The Spectral Character Of Death To The Notion Of Time Itself. Time Has Become Death Triumphant Over All.

Everything In Life, Is A Question Of Drawing A Life, John, And You Have To Decide For Yourself Where To Draw It. You Cant Draw It For Others. You Can Try, Of Course, But It Doesn't Work. People Obeying Rules Laid Down My Somebody Else Is Not The Same Thing As Respecting Life. And If You Want To Respect Life, You Have To Draw A Line.