There's No Such Thing As Love; Only

Here I Am Trying To Live, Or Rather, I Am Trying To Teach The Death Within Me How To Live.

The Artist Is A Kind Of Prison From Which The Works Of Art Escape.

Continue Reading Proust. His Magnificent Intelligence Is Particularly Fond Of Describing Stupidity. Which Is Ultimately Exhausting.

And History Becomes Legend And Legend Becomes History.

Poets Don't Draw. They Unravel Their Handwriting And Then Tie It Up Again, But Differently.