As a small child, I felt in my heart two contradictory feelings, the horror of life and the ecstasy of life.
War is a quarrel between two thieves too cowardly to fight their own battle.
There are two ways of exerting one’s strength: one is pushing down, the other is pulling up.
And I thought if I don’t pre-interview – first of all, we couldn’t afford it – but the second thing was it would force me to do my own research, which takes two weeks.
Two things awe me most, the starry sky above me and the moral law within me.
I served two tours of duty in Vietnam. I won the Bronze Star. I won the Purple Heart.
Picasso is what is going to happen and what is happening; he is posterity and archaic time, the distant ancestor and our next-door neighbor. Speed permits him to be two places at once, to belong to all the centuries without letting go of the here and now.
If I don’t write down a thought – or an image or a line of poetry – the instant it comes to mind, it vanishes, which explains why I have pens and notebooks in my pants and coat pockets, the car, the bicycle basket, on one or two desks in every room including bathrooms and the kitchen.
There are two kinds of people; those who are always well and those who are always sick. Most of the evils of the world come from the first sort and most of the achievement from the second.
There are two good rules which ought to be written on every heart – never to believe anything bad about anybody unless you positively know it to be true; never to tell even that unless you feel that it is absolutely necessary, and that God is listening.