Sometimes," He Sighed, "i Think

You Know, The Men Go To Tea Houses With The Expectation That They Will Have A Nice Quiet Evening And Not Read About It The Next Morning In The Newspaper.

In The Instant Before The Door Opened, I Could Almost Sense My Life Expanding Just Like A River Whose Waters Have Begun To Swell; For I Had Never Before Taken Such A Drastic Step To Change The Course Of My Own Future. I Was Like A Child Tiptoeing Along A Precipice Overlooking The Sea. And Yet Somehow I Hadn't Imagined A Great Wave Might Come And Strike Me There, And Wash Everything Away.

Was Life Nothing More Than A Storm That Constantly Washed Away What Had Been There Only A Moment Before, And Left Behind Something Barren And Unrecognizable?

Autobiography, If There Really Is Such A Thing, Is Like Asking A Rabbit To Tell Us What He Looks Like Hopping Through The Grasses Of The Field. How Would He Know? If We Want To Hear About The Field On The Other Hand, No One Is In A Better Circumstance To Tell Us-so Long As We Keep In Mind That We Are Missing All Those Things The Rabbit Was In No Position To Observe.

It's Less A Matter Of Looking The Other Way Than Of Closing Our Eyes To What We Can't Stop From Happening.