It was around 1985 before I heard the news of President Kennedy's assassination.
All cows were like other cows, all tigers like all other tigers - What on earth happened to human beings?
Besides, whoever keeps the future in front of him and the past at his back is doing something else that's hard to imagine. For the image implies that events somehow already exist in the future, reach the present at a determined moment, and finally come to rest in the past. But nothing exists in the future; it is empty; one might die at any minute. Therefore such a person has his face toward the void, whereas it is the past behind him that is visible, stored in the memory.
That question is too good to spoil with an answer.
Using someone's name during a conversation was like a casual caress, like stroking their hair.
If you find life absurd, shouldn’t you find death precisely meaningful?
But nothing exists in the future; it is empty; one might die at any minute.
It feels wonderful to be go back to the 1940s and recreate the whole era through my clothes, voice and body language. I am tired of playing the larger-than-life hero.
Man never ceases to seek knowledge about the objects of his experiences, to understand their meaning for his existence and to react to them according to his understanding. Finally, out of the sum total of the meanings that he has deduced from his contacts with numerous single objects of his environment there grows a unified view of the world into which he finds himself "thrown" (to use an existentialist term again) and this view is of the third order.
January is my favorite month, when the light is plainest, least colored. And I like the feeling of beginnings.
Just when you arrive at the apex of your skills, it's time to retire. But as it turned out, I decided that since it was the thing that I felt I did best, I owed it to all that be to pursue it.