We Are All Born; Some Remain So.

The Day You Die Is Just Like Any Other, Only Shorter.

It's So Nice To Know Where You're Going, In The Early Stages. It Almost Rids You Of The Wish To Go There.

To Find A Form That Accommodates The Mess, That Is The Task Of The Artist Now.

Not To Want To Say, Not To Know What You Want To Say, Not To Be Able To Say What You Think You Want To Say, And Never To Stop Saying, Or Hardly Ever, That Is The Thing To Keep In Mind, Even In The Heat Of Composition.

I, Of Whom I Know Nothing, I Know My Eyes Are Open, Because Of The Tears That Pour From Them Unceasingly.