Sometimes things happen that give me cause to believe I no longer exist. Car park barriers which do not lift when I drive towards them, automatic doors which do not open automatically as I approach.

No matter how far I try to travel from people, people always appear. Either they follow me, or they're already there, and I followed them, unwittingly.

In the face of immense tragedy—yet again—unexpected beauty.

How easy to be electrocuted. How fine the line between beauty and peril.

I love that an idea can be so powerful it doesn't matter whether I've seen the artwork for real or not.

Now I wonder if each artwork is in fact utterly inaccessible to everybody but the person to whom it is secretly addressed?

Art, and sadness, which last forever.

Blending into the tinctures and textures of the countryside. The tree which falls without any human hearing still falls, as the creatures who die without being found by a human still die.

I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. Magnetic to the meandering eye. Enigmatic, unreachable.

I decided that if I didn't allow myself to fall asleep, then I wouldn't have to wake up again and despair.

My mother says: 'People who suffer from anxiety are usually those with the most vivid imaginations.

Stop telling God what you want to have, He is going to use what you have left to give you what you need.

Which would be worse- to live as a monster, or to die as a free man?

Caregivers had to take care of themselves, and part of that meant having a life beyond whatever illness had put them in their cole.

A man of genius can hardly be sociable, for what dialogues could indeed be so intelligent and entertaining as his own monologues?

We're living based on laws and ideas that we, as a society, embraced back in the days of slavery.

I am what I am. A fighter.

I never argue with the tape. To be angry at the market because it unexpectedly or even illogically goes against you is like getting mad at your lungs because you have pneumonia.

The Self is the one thing you can discover, not by travelling miles, but by being very still inside your own being and saying to the Supreme, Yes, absorb me.

I miss the guys, and I miss playing baseball. Just being able to swing the bat, or run, or dive for a ball, or slide into second.

Sometimes you want to hear your own mother's voice.