You Know You Are Truly Alive When

It Is A Sad Hardship And Slavery To People Who Live In Towns, That In Their Movements They Know Of One Dimension Only; They Walk Along The Line As If They Were Led On A String. The Transition From The Line To The Plane Into The Two Dimensions, When You Wander Across A Field Or Through A Wood, Is A Splendid Liberation To The Slaves, Like The French Revolution. But In The Air You Are Taken Into The Full Freedom Of The Three Dimensions; After Long Ages Of Exile And Dreams The Homesick Heart Throws Itself Into The Arms Of Space.

I Have Been Trying For A Long Time To Understand God. Now I Have Made Friends With Him. To Love Him Truly You Must Love Change, And You Must Love A Joke, These Being The True Inclinations Of His Own Heart.

The Present Is Always Unsettled, No One Has Had Time To Contemplate It In Tranquillity . I Was A Painter Before I Was A Writer And A Painter Never Wants The Subject Right Under His Nose; He Wants To Stand Back And Study A Landscape With Half-closed Eyes.

There Is Something Strangely Determinate And Fatal About A Single Shot In The Night. It Is As If Someone Had Cried A Message To You In One Word, And Would Not Repeat It.

It Is Impossible That A Town Will Not Play A Part In Your Life, It Does Not Even Make Much Difference Whether You Have More Good Or Bad Things To Say Of It, It Draws Your Mind To It, By A Mental Law Of Gravitation.