The Best Artists Know What To Leave

I Don't Think The World Is The Way We Like To Think It Is. I Don't Think It's One Solid World, But Many, Thousands Upon Thousands Of Them--as Many As There Are People--because Each Person Perceives The World In His Or Her Own Way; Each Lives In His Or Her Own World. Sometimes They Connect, For A Moment, Or More Rarely, For A Lifetime, But Mostly We Are Alone, Each Living In Our Own World, Suffering Our Small Deaths.

We're All Made Of Stories. When They Finally Put Us Underground, The Stories Are What Will Go On. Not Forever, Perhaps, But For A Time. It's A Kind Of Immortality, I Suppose, Bounded By Limits, It's True, But Then So's Everything.

Under The Skin, Intense Fires Burn.

There Was Too Much Going On Here -- Too Much That Strayed From Odd All The Way Over Into Seriously Weird.

I Wouldn't Like To Live In A World Where Everything's As Cut-and-dried As Most People Think It Is