Perhaps The Only Magician We Have Is

I Miss The Animal Buoyancy Of New York, The Animal Vitality. I Did Not Mind That It Had No Meaning And No Depth.

I Am Aware Of Being In A Beautiful Prison, From Which I Can Only Escape By Writing.

Our Love Of Each Other Was Like Two Long Shadows Kissing Without Hope Of Reality.

Throw Your Dreams Into Space Like A Kite, And You Do Not Know What It Will Bring Back, A New Life, A New Friend, A New Love, A New Country.

There Are Only Two Kinds Of Freedom In The World; The Freedom Of The Rich And Powerful, And The Freedom Of The Artist And The Monk Who Renounces Possessions.