Every Word I Say Has Chains Round

Today I Must Be Very Careful, Today I Have Left My Armor At Home.

When You Are A Child You Are Yourself And You Know And See Everything Prophetically. And Then Suddenly Something Happens And You Stop Being Yourself; You Become What Others Force You To Be. You Lose Your Wisdom And Your Soul.

All Of Writing Is A Huge Lake. There Are Great Rivers That Feed The Lake, Like Tolstoy Or Dostoyevsky. And Then There Are Mere Trickles, Like Jean Rhys. All That Matters Is Feeding The Lake. I Don't Matter. The Lake Matters. You Must Keep Feeding The Lake.

If I Was Bound For Hell, Let It Be Hell. No More False Heaven. No More Damned Magic.

I Want More Of This Feeling - Fire And Wings.