She Seemed To Belong To That Pagan,

It Seems That What I Really Want Is A Drug That Will Increase My Consciousness Of Others, Not Myself.

I Can Create Countries Just As I Can Create The Actions Of My Characters. That Is Why A Lot Of Travel Seems To Me A Waste Of Time.

There's A Place Beyond Words Where Experience First Occurs To Which I Always Want To Return. I Suspect That Whenever I Articulate My Thoughts Or Translate My Impulses Into Words, I Am Betraying The Real Thoughts And Impulses Which Remain Hidden.

She Seemed To Belong To That Pagan, Primitive Kingdom Of Birds And Forests Where Everything Was Infinitely Abundant, Wild, Blooming, And Royal In Its Perpetual Decay, Death, And Rebirth; Illicit And Clashing With The Human World.

I Suppress In My Prose Any Language Which Calls Attention To Itself.