All Publicity Works Upon Anxiety.

My Heart Born Naked Was Swaddled In Lullabies. Later Alone It Wore Poems For Clothes. Like A Shirt I Carried On My Back The Poetry I Had Read. So I Lived For Half A Century Until Wordlessly We Met. From My Shirt On The Back Of The Chair I Learn Tonight How Many Years Of Learning By Heart I Waited For You.

When We Read A Story, We Inhabit It. The Covers Of The Book Are Like A Roof And Four Walls. What Is To Happen Next Will Take Place Within The Four Walls Of The Story. And This Is Possible Because The Story's Voice Makes Everything Its Own.

We Only See What We Look At. To Look Is An Act Of Choice.

Modern Thought Has Transferred The Spectral Character Of Death To The Notion Of Time Itself. Time Has Become Death Triumphant Over All.

I Can't Tell You What Art Does And How It Does It, But I Know That Often Art Has Judged The Judges, Pleaded Revenge To The Innocent And Shown To The Future What The Past Suffered, So That It Has Never Been Forgotten. Art, When It Functions Like This, Becomes A Meeting-place Of The Invisible, The Irreducible, The Enduring, Guts, And Honor.