When I Was Young, I Was Extremely

I Want To Be One Of The Artists In The Cathedral On The Great Plain. I Want To Make A Dragon's Head, An Angel, A Devil - Or Perhaps A Saint - Out Of Stone.

Say Anything You Want Against The Seventh Seal. My Fear Of Death - This Infantile Fixation Of Mine - Was, At That Moment, Overwhelming. I Felt Myself In Contact With Death Day And Night, And My Fear Was Tremendous. When I Finished The Picture, My Fear Went Away. I Have The Feeling Simply Of Having Painted A Canvas In An Enormous Hurry - With Enormous Pretension But Without Any Arrogance. I Said, 'here Is A Painting; Take It, Please.'

The Demons Are Innumerable, Arrive At The Most Inappropriate Times And Create Panic And Terror. But I Have Learned That If I Can Master The Negative Forces And Harness Them To My Chariot, Then They Can Work To My Advantage. Lilies Often Grow Out Of Carcasses' Arseholes.

Occasionally I Sense An Insane Wail Deep Down In The Pit, The Echo Alone Reaching Me, Striking Without Warning, A Child Weeping Uninhibitedly, Imprisoned Forever.

I Supply My Own Angels And Demons. I Exist On A Stony Beach, Which Lowers Itself In Waves Toward A Protective Ocean. A Dog Barks; A Child Cries; The Day Sinks And Becomes Night. You Can Never Scare Me. No Human Being Will Be Able To Scare Me Ever Again. I Have A Prayer That I Repeat To Myself In Absolute Stillness: May A Wind Come To Stir Up The Ocean And The Stifling Twilight. May A Bird Come From Water Out There And Explode The Silence With Its Call.