Our Age Has Need Of Violence," He

She Had Lost Herself Somewhere Along The Frontier Between Her Inventions, Her Stories, Her Fantasies And Her True Self. The Boundaries Had Become Effaced, The Tracks Lost, She Had Walked Into Pure Chaos, And Not A Chaos Which Carried Her Like The Galloping Of Romantic Riders In Operas And Legends, But Which Suddenly Revealed The Stage Props: A Papier-mâché Horse.

Each Contact With A Human Being Is So Rare, So Precious, One Should Preserve It.

When I Don't Write, I Feel My World Shrink. I Lose My Fire, My Color.

In Music I Feel Most Deeply The Passing Of Things.

Passion Gives Me Moments Of Wholeness.