“When I erase a word with a pencil, where does it go?”

“I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.”

“Write your plans in pencil and give God the eraser.”

“We all make mistakes. That's why my pencil has an eraser.”

“And I’ll go on erasing the faulty words I put in my whole, even if my whole is left without words.”

“The tools of the academic designer are a piece of paper and a pencil with an eraser. If a mistake is made, it can always be erased and changed. If the practical-reactor designer errs, he wears the mistake around his neck; it cannot be erased. Everyone sees it.”

“Where does a thought go when it's forgotten?”

“Where do the words go
when we have said them?”

“There's a door."
"Where does it go?"
"It stays where it is, I think.”

“Oh, where does the light go when the light goes out?”