...the thought went through his mind that beauty is a spark which flares up when two ages meet across the distance of time, that beauty is a clean sweep of chronology, a rebellion against time.

The first time I had sat down to a meal I had grown on my own, along with a bottle of wine that we had made, I burst into tears. To be in touch and be in tune with that is an extraordinary gift.

New York makes even a rich man feel his unimportance. New York is cold, glittering, malign. The buildings dominate. There is a sort of atomic frenzy to the activity going on; the more furious the pace, the more diminished the spirit.

Written By Henry Miller

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