We See Things The Way We Are,

Sometimes I Think Of Paris Not As A City But As A Home.

The Complaints Of The Child In Us Will Never Cease Lamenting Until It Is Consoled, Answered, Understood. Only Then Will It Lie Still In Us, Like Our Fears. It Will Die In Peace And Leave Us What The Child Leaves To The Man - The Sense Of Wonder.

We Sit On The Kitchen Exchanging These Diabolical Outgrowths Of Overfertile Minds.

Our Age Has Need Of Violence," He Writes. And He Is Violence.

I Don't Wish Power, Only Art -art And Passion.