Power May Be At The End Of

There Is A Close Relationship Between Flowers And Convicts.

In Order To Weep, I Had Descended To The Realm Of The Dead Themselves, To Their Secret Chambers, Led By The Invisible But Soft Hands Of Birds Down Stairways Which Were Folded Up Again As I Advanced. I Displayed My Grief In The Friendly Fields Of Death, Far From Men: Within Myself.

I Recognize In Thieves, Traitors And Murderers, In The Ruthless And The Cunning, A Deep Beauty - A Sunken Beauty.

The Vaporish Cocaine Loosens The Contours Of Their Lives And Sets Their Bodies Adrift, And So They Are Untouchable.

...the Characters In My Books All Resemble Each Other. They Live, With Minor Variations, The Same Moments, The Same Perils, And When I Speak Of Them, My Language, Which Is Inspired By Them, Repeats The Same Poems In The Same Tone.