I Came To New York And In

I Turn Sentences Around. That's My Life. I Write A Sentence And Then I Turn It Around. Then I Look At It And Turn It Around Again.

Obviously The Facts Are Never Just Coming At You But Are Incorporated By An Imagination That Is Formed By Your Previous Experience. Memories Of The Past Are Not Memories Of Facts But Memories Of Your Imaginings Of The Facts.

You Be Greater Than Your Feelings. I Don't Demand This Of You - Life Does. Otherwise You'll Be Washed Away By Feelings. You'll Be Washed Out To Sea And Never Seen Again.

Nothing Lasts And Yet Nothing Passes Either, And Nothing Passes Just Because Nothing Lasts.

People Were Standing Up Everywhere Shouting, "this Is Me! This Is Me!" Every Time You Looked At Them They Stood Up And Told You Who They Were, And The Truth Of It Was That They Had No More Idea Who Or What They Were Than He Had. They Believed Their Flashing Signs, Too. They Ought To Be Standing Up And Shouting, "this Isn't Me! This Isn't Me!" They Would If They Had Any Decency. "this Isn't Me!" Then You Might Know How To Proceed Through The Flashing Bullshit Of This World.