When I Discover Who I Am, I'll

We Look Too Much To Museums. The Sun Coming Up In The Morning Is Enough.

Words Are Your Business, Boy. Not Just The Word. Words Are Everything. The Key To The Rock, The Answer To The Question.

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

At Best Americans Give But A Limited Attention To History. Too Much Happens Too Rapidly, And Before We Can Evaluate It, Or Exhaust Its Meaning Or Pleasure, There Is Something New To Concern Us. Ours Is The Tempo Of The Motion Picture, Not That Of The Still Camera, And We Waste Experience As We Wasted The Forest.

And My Problem Was That I Always Tried To Go In Everyone's Way But My Own.