The Buddha, the Godhead, resides quite as comfortably in the circuits of a digital computer or the gears of a cycle transmission as he does at the top of a mountain or in the petals of a flower. To think otherwise is to demean the Buddha—which is to demean oneself.

When you present facts that a liar cannot refute, you prove them wrong.

The artist discards all theories, both his own and those of others. He forgets everything when he is in front of his canvas.

Oh, strawberries don’t taste as they used to and the thighs of women have lost their clutch! And some men eased themselves like setting hens into the nest of death.

Written By John Steinbeck

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