Solitude Is The Playfield Of Satan.

All The Seven Deadly Sins Are Peccadilloes But Without Three Of Them, Pride, Lust, And Sloth, Poetry Might Never Have Been Born.

The Summer Night Was Starless And Stirless, With Distant Spasms Of Silent Lightning.

If A Violin String Could Ache, I Would Be That String.

The Square Root Of I Is I.

Turning One's Novel Into A Movie Script Is Rather Like Making A Series Of Sketches For A Painting That Has Long Ago Been Finished And Framed.