Don't Call Yourself A Secret Unless You

I Speak Of A Clinical Depression That Is The Background Of Your Entire Life, A Background Of Anguish And Anxiety, A Sense That Nothing Goes Well, That Pleasure Is Unavailable And All Your Strategies Collapse.

I'm Not A Very Nostalgic Person. I Don't Really Look At The Past And Summon Up Regrets, Or Self-congratulations, It Just Is Not A Mechanism That Operates Very Strongly In Me. So I Neither Have Regrets Nor Occasions For Self-congratulations.

Ah, Grief Makes Us Precise!

Suzanne Had A Room On A Waterfront Street In The Port Of Montreal. Everything Happened Just As It Was Put Down. She Was The Wife Of A Man I Knew. Her Hospitality Was Immaculate. Some Months Later I Sang It For Judy Collins Over The Telephone. The Publishing Rights Were Lost In New York City, But It Is Probably Appropriate That I Don't Own This Song. Just The Other Day I Heard Some People Singing It On A Ship In The Caspian Sea.

There Is A Crack In Everything, That's How The Light Gets In.