Detached and attentive to life’s command, I feel only freedom and the unreserved love that arises when fear has exhausted itself.

The Quartets have been a major part of my work.

It was a day in March, and the sky was a faint green with the first hint of spring. In Central Park, five hundred feet below, the earth caught the tone of the sky in a shade of brown that promised to become green, and the lakes lay like splinters of glass under the cobwebs of bare branches.

literature coming from the cold corpse of a whore is the last thing to be served in bed.

Written By Henry Miller

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