We are born, we live and we die - in the midst of the marvelous.
I think the hardest part of writing is revising. And by that I mean the following: A novelist has to create the piece of marble and then chip away to find the figure in it.
I've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own.
Art is whether or not there is a scream in him wanting to get out in a special way.
I learned a long time ago, Reuven, that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, that is something. A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something. He can fill that tiny span with meaning, so its quality is immeasurable though its quantity may be insignificant. Do you understand what I am saying? A man must fill his life with meaning, meaning is not automatically given to life.
Something that is yours forever is never precious
I looked at my right hand, the hand with which I painted. There was power in that hand. Power to create and destroy. Power to bring pleasure and pain. Power to amuse and horrify. There was in that hand the demonic and the divine at one and the same time. The demonic and the divine were two aspects of the same force. Creation was demonic and divine. Creativity was demonic and divine. I was demonic and divine.
Make Money a CENTRAL priority. This has nothing to do with greed and consumption and everything to do with life force and power.
From my admittedly cranky perspective, BushCheney are lousy on the Bill of Rights, ClintonGore were lousy on the Bill of Rights, and everyone within bribing distance of the 2008 election (Hillary, McCain, Giuliani) are lousy on the Bill of Rights, too.
A person fully awakened to the jewel-like dignity of their own life is capable of truly respecting that same treasure in others.
One link in a chain explains the infinite chain.