It's my favorite thing to do: luxurious nothing.
What the hell did we do to deserve this?
The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume.
I'd like my life back.
I don't feel my job is on the line, but of course that might change.
I became a villain for doing the right thing.
I think the environmental impact of this disaster is likely to have been very, very modest.
And then the work bears a strong sense of leave-taking for me personally. It ends the work I began in the 1960s (paintings from black-and-white photographs), with a compressed summation that precludes any possible continuation. And so it is a leave-taking from thoughts and feelings of my own on a very basic level. Not that this is a deliberate act, of course; it is a quasi-automatic sequence of disintegration and reformation which I can perceive, as always, only in retrospect.
There is in the universe something for the description and analysis of which the natural sciences cannot contribute anything. There are events beyond the range of those events that the procedures of the natural sciences are fit to observe and describe. There is human action.
Do you love me for me?. . . I don't even love me for me.
It is one of the strictest conditions of initiation that occult knowledge may never be sold or used for gain.