She Wanted Nothing That He Could Offer

‎"magic Is The First And Last Religion Of The World. It Has The Power To Make Us Whole, To Open Our Eyes To The Dominions And Return Us To Ourselves. Everything That Isn't Us Is Also Ourselves. We're Joined To Everything That Was, Is And Will Be. From One End Of The Imajica To Another. From The Tiniest Mote Dancing Over This Flame To The Godhead Itself.

I'm A Poet,' The Young Man Said, 'and It's My Job To Remember The Sadness Of Things.

We Are All Our Own Graveyards, I Believe; We Squat Amongst The Tombs Of The People We Were. If We're Healthy, Every Day Is A Celebration, A Day Of The Dead, In Which We Give Thanks For The Lives That We Lived, And If We Are Neurotic We Brood And Mourn And Wish That The Past Was Still Present.

I Don't Like To Make A Distinction Between The Writer And The Painter , Finally , Because I Do Both Things Anyway . Everybody's Dreaming And Trying To Put Down Their Dreams In The Way That Their Hand Knows Best . I Feel As Much A Unity , As Much Comradeship , With Painters As I Do Writers .

Words Are Sexier Than Flesh.