A Man Kills The Thing He Loves,

I've Dealt With A Lot Of Producers Who Were Pricks And I'm Determined Not To Be That.

I Dreamt A Limitless Book, A Book Unbound, Its Leaves Scattered In Fantastic Abundance On Every Line There Was A New Horizon Drawn, New Heavens Supposed; New States, New Souls.

I Don't Like To Make A Distinction Between The Writer And The Painter , Finally , Because I Do Both Things Anyway . Everybody's Dreaming And Trying To Put Down Their Dreams In The Way That Their Hand Knows Best . I Feel As Much A Unity , As Much Comradeship , With Painters As I Do Writers .

Superman Is, After All, An Alien Life Form. He Is Simply The Acceptable Face Of Invading Realities.

Nothing Else Wounds So Deeply And Irreparably. Nothing Else Robs Us Of Hope So Much As Being Unloved By One We Love