Anthony Marais

Contemplation and writing demand solitude, which leads to a sorry feeling of isolation and detachment. Writers try to call their loneliness genius, and the world believes them most of the time.

How do you thank someone like Woody Allen or Milan Kundera__hen they have shared ideas with you that are no less than life-saving, when they have given you some of your happiest moments, sharing what they have learned like a parent or a friend? Do you hunt them down and shake their hand? Do you ask for their autograph? Would that even the balance? And how do you thank Orson Welles or Oscar Wilde__eople who are no longer with us? There is only one way to show your gratitude, and that is to give their precious gift back, return it the way you received it: write.

Physiologically, the union of two opposites is a pleasurable affair. Why should the psyche be any different?

Race should be seen in one way, and one way only: on your marks, get set, go!

Those who jump out of airplanes do not love life__hey deny it, which, of course, is not done without a certain naughty exhilaration. Like children they relish tugging on the apron of Mother Nature, as long as she doesn__ turn and slap them.

If one chews a problem over long enough, it becomes apparent that the jaw is aching, and what started as weighing heavy on the heart ends up a pain in the neck.

Reflection is nothing more than what it sounds, and pondering one__ own life is about as productive as talking to one__ image in a mirror: both acts are egocentric and neither produces a dialog. People who talk to themselves in public are not self-actualized; they're crazy.

Many humans make the mistake of fighting for race when it__ the species driving our genes. And there is only one weapon to fight for species: the brain.

Just because one is born in sin is no reason to brag about it.

Is it not ignorance that we share? A lie takes two. The truth we find alone.