The Wind Always Brings Us Back To

The Process Of Writing Is A Little Like Madness, A Kind Of Possession Not Altogether Benign.

Garden Work Clears The Mind.

A Man Who Casts No Shadow Isn't Really A Man At All.

I Could Do With A Bit More Excess. From Now On I'm Going To Be Immoderate--and Volatile--i Shall Enjoy Loud Music And Lurid Poetry. I Shall Be Rampant.

Anything That Can Be Dreamed Is True.