“...which causes me to wonder, my own purpose on so many days as h umbel as the spider's, what is beautiful that I make? What is elegant? What feeds the world?”

“So tell me, what is our ending? Will it be beautiful? So beautiful? Will my life find me by your side? 'Cause your love is beautiful, so beautiful.”

“What do I make of all this texture? What does it mean about the kind of world in which I have been set down? The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means that there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek.”

“Adornment, what a science! Beauty, what a weapon! Modesty, what elegance!”

“What could I do, to make the most of this day, whether I was in my own day, or this one? What amazing history was I seeing firsthand? Would I embrace it, instead of crying and whining? Was it in me to be grateful for my situation? Truly in me?”

“Beer's intellectual. What a shame so many idiots drink it.- The Watchful Poker Chip of H. Matisse”