The Moment That You Place

The Surest Defense Against Evil Is Extreme Individualism, Originality Of Thinking, Whimsicality, Even - If You Will - Eccentricity. That Is, Something That Can't Be Feigned, Faked, Imitated; Something Even A Seasoned Imposter Couldn't Be Happy With.

I Had This Fantasy Of Becoming A Neurosurgeon. You Know, The Normal Jewish Boy Fantasy, But I Wanted To Be A Neurosurgeon For Some Reason. So I Started In This Unpleasant Way. I Was An Assistant To The Coroner, Opening Up Corpses, Taking The Innards Out, Opening Skulls, Taking The Brains Out.

...boredom Speaks The Language Of Time, And It Is To Teach You The Most Valuable Lesson In Your Life--...the Lesson Of Your Utter Insignificance. It Is Valuable To You, As Well As To Those You Are To Rub Shoulders With. 'you Are Finite,' Time Tells You In A Voice Of Boredom, 'and Whatever You Do Is, From My Point Of View, Futile.' As Music To Your Ears, This, Of Course, May Not Count; Yet The Sense Of Futility, Of Limited Significance Even Of Your Best, Most Ardent Actions Is Better Than The Illusion Of Their Consequence And The Attendant Self-satisfaction.

If A Poet Has Any Obligation Toward Society, It Is To Write Well. Being In The Minority, He Has No Other Choice. Failing This Duty, He Sinks Into Oblivion. Society, On The Other Hand, Has No Obligation Toward The Poet.

I'm Not Trying To Be Ridiculous Or Funny, But It Was Rather Pleasant To Find Yourself In Isolation, In Solitary.