I Wake The Dead. I Bring Jackie

We Strain To Listen To The Ghosts And Echoes Of Our Inexpressibly Wise Past, And We Have An Obligation To Maintain These Places, To Provide These Sanctuaries, So That People May Be In The Presence Of Forces Larger Than Those Of The Moment.

It Is The Great Arrogance Of The Present To Forget The Intelligence Of The Past

I Read Cover To Cover Every Jazz Publication That I Could And In The New York Times, Every Single Day Reading Their Jazz Reviews Even Though I Didn't Put Them In The Films. I Wanted To Know What Is Going On.

The Flame Is Not Out, But It Is Flickering.

There Are No Ordinary Lives.