Beige is atmosphere. It's bisque, it's ivory, it's cream, it's stone, it's toast, it's cappuccino. It;s well, it's magic.
There is no feeling so simple that it is not immediately complicated and distorted by introspection.
The most subtle art, the strongest and deepest art - supreme art - is the one that does not at first allow itself to be recognized.
The finest virtues can become deformed with age. The precise mind becomes finicky; the thrifty man, miserly; the cautious man, timorous; the man of imagination, fanciful. Even perseverance ends up in a sort of stupidity. Just as, on the other hand, being too willing to understand too many opinions, too diverse ways of seeing, constancy is lost and the mind goes astray in a restless fickleness.
Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow's joy is possible only if today's makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one.
The color of truth is gray.
In other people's company I felt I was dull, gloomy, unwelcome, at once bored and boring.
I'm the ultimate organizer! My major at Stanford was "Organizational Behavior" so I love to multi-task and stay extra busy.
The Chinese believe that before you can conquer a beast you first must make it beautiful. In some strange way, I have tried to do that with manic-depressive illness. It has been a fascinating, albeit deadly, enemy and companion; I have found it to be seductively complicated, a distillation both of what is finest in our natures, and of what is most dangerous.
Do you have any bald ice cream?
We really wanted to know all the unknowable things about each other and how we were the same and how we were different, if we even were, maybe nobody is.