Art Is Hard For A Puritan To

Everything Bigger Than Life Attracts A Crowd.

I Have Often Supported Israel, I Have Often Visited The Country And Want The Country To Exist And At Last Find Peace With Its Neighbours.

Love That’s It: The Cashless Commerce. The Blanket Always Too Short. The Loose Connexion. To Search Behind The Horizon. To Brush Fallen Leaves With Four Shoes And In One’s Mind To Rub Bare Feet. To Let And Rent Hearts; Or In A Room With Shower And Mirror, In A Hired Car, Bonnet Facing The Moon, Wherever Innocence Stops And Burns Its Programme, The Word In Falsetto Sounds Different And New Each Time. Today, In Front Of A Box Office Not Yet Open, Hand In Hand Crackled The Hangdog Old Man And The Dainty Old Woman. The Film Promised Love.

People Have Always Told Tales. Long Before Humanity Learned To Write And Gradually Became Literate, Everybody Told Tales To Everybody Else And Everybody Listened To Everybody Else's Tales. Before Long It Became Clear That Some Of The Still Illiterate Storytellers Told More And Better Tales Than Others, That Is, They Could Make More People Believe Their Lies.

What I Do Is Sometimes - At Least In Germany - Met With Wounding Campaigns. I Always Face The Question: Should I Grow Myself A Thick Skin And Ignore It, Or Should I Let Myself Be Wounded? I've Decided To Be Wounded, Since, If I Grew A Thick Skin, There Are Other Things I Wouldn't Feel Any More.