

“Emotion is always multiplied in the art of a person who doesn't really show much emotion. It once expanded deep within his hidden soul, and following the downplay his audience is blown away.”
― Killosophy
― Killosophy

“When you are crazy you learn to keep quiet.”
― VALIS
― VALIS

“If you can be quiet, you’re more than welcome to stay in my House of Silence. Bring your own bubblegum ice cream.
”
― Seriously delirious, but not at all serious
― Seriously delirious, but not at all serious

“These are the few ways we can practice humility:
To speak as little as possible of one's self.
To mind one's own business.
Not to want to manage other people's affairs.
To avoid curiosity.
To accept contradictions and correction cheerfully.
To pass over the mistakes of others.
To accept insults and injuries.
To accept being slighted, forgotten and disliked.
To be kind and gentle even under provocation.
Never to stand on one's dignity.
To choose always the hardest.”
― The Joy in Loving: A Guide to Daily Living
To speak as little as possible of one's self.
To mind one's own business.
Not to want to manage other people's affairs.
To avoid curiosity.
To accept contradictions and correction cheerfully.
To pass over the mistakes of others.
To accept insults and injuries.
To accept being slighted, forgotten and disliked.
To be kind and gentle even under provocation.
Never to stand on one's dignity.
To choose always the hardest.”
― The Joy in Loving: A Guide to Daily Living

“The Chair
I’m writing to you, who made the archaic wooden chair
look like a throne while you sat on it.
Amidst your absence, I choose to sit on the floor,
which is dusty as a dry Kansas day.
I am stoic as a statue of Buddha,
not wanting to bother the old wooden chair,
which has been silent now for months.
In this sunlit moment I think of you.
I can still picture you sitting there--
your forehead wrinkled like an un-ironed shirt,
the light splashed on your face,
like holy water from St. Joseph’s.
The chair, with rounded curves
like that of a full-figured woman,
seems as mellow as a monk in prayer.
The breeze blows from beyond the curtains,
as if your spirit has come back to rest.
Now a cloud passes overhead,
and I hush, waiting to hear what rests
so heavily on the chair’s lumbering mind.
Do not interrupt, even if the wind offers to carry
your raspy voice like a wispy cloud.”
― A Letter to Andre Breton, Originally Composed on a Leaf of Lettuce With an Ink-dipped Carrot
I’m writing to you, who made the archaic wooden chair
look like a throne while you sat on it.
Amidst your absence, I choose to sit on the floor,
which is dusty as a dry Kansas day.
I am stoic as a statue of Buddha,
not wanting to bother the old wooden chair,
which has been silent now for months.
In this sunlit moment I think of you.
I can still picture you sitting there--
your forehead wrinkled like an un-ironed shirt,
the light splashed on your face,
like holy water from St. Joseph’s.
The chair, with rounded curves
like that of a full-figured woman,
seems as mellow as a monk in prayer.
The breeze blows from beyond the curtains,
as if your spirit has come back to rest.
Now a cloud passes overhead,
and I hush, waiting to hear what rests
so heavily on the chair’s lumbering mind.
Do not interrupt, even if the wind offers to carry
your raspy voice like a wispy cloud.”
― A Letter to Andre Breton, Originally Composed on a Leaf of Lettuce With an Ink-dipped Carrot
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