[describing His House:] It Is

Consistency Requires You To Be As Ignorant Today As You Were A Year Ago.

The Ultimate Justification Of The Work Of Art Is To Help The Spectator To Become A Work Of Art Himself.

It Was A Morning In Early Summer. A Silver Haze Shimmered And Trembled Over The Lime Trees. The Air Was Laden With Their Fragrance. The Temperature Was Like A Caress. I Remember - I Need Not Recall - That I Climbed Up A Tree Stump And Felt Suddenly Immersed In Itness. I Did Not Call It By That Name. I Had No Need For Words. It And I Were One.

We Usually Meet All Of Our Relatives Only At Funerals Where Somebody Always Observes: "too Bad We Can't Get Together More Often".

I Would I Could Stand On A Busy Corner, Hat In Hand, And Beg People To Throw Me All Their Wasted Hours.