On Life:
Plots and character don’t make life. Life is here and now, anytime you say the word, anytime you let her rip.
The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.
Life is constantly providing us with new funds, new resources, even when we are reduced to immobility. In life’s ledger there is no such thing as frozen assets.
Life is 440 horsepower in a 2-cylinder engine.
Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning.
A book is a part of life, a manifestation of life, just as much as a tree or a horse or a star. It obeys its own rhythms, its own laws, whether it be a novel, a play, or a diary. The deep, hidden rhythm of life is always there that of the pulse, the heart beat.
The stabbing horror of life is not contained in calamities and disasters, because these things wake one up and one gets very familiar and intimate with them and finally they become tame again. No, it is more like being in a hotel room in Hoboken let us say, and just enough money in one’s pocket for another meal.
But it’s just because the chances are all against you, just because there is so little hope, that life is sweet over here.
(From:
On God:
The world isn’t kept running because it’s a paying proposition. (God doesn’t make a cent on the deal.) The world goes on because a few men in every generation believe in it utterly, accept it unquestioningly they underwrite it with their lives.