Some Tiny Creature, Mad With Wrath, Is

The Suicide, As She Is Falling, Illuminated By The Moon, Regrets Her Act, And Finds Appalling The Thought She Will Be Dead So Soon.

There Are So Many Things We've Been Brought Up To Believe That It Takes You An Awfully Long Time To Realize That They Aren't You.

I Have Given Up Considering Happiness As Relevant.

This Is The Theory… That Anything That Is Art… Is Presumably About Some Certain Thing, But Is Really Always About Something Else, And It’s No Good Having One Without The Other, Because If You Just Have The Something It Is Boring And If You Just Have The Something Else It’s Irritating.

I Am A Person Before I Am Anything Else. I Never Say I Am A Writer. I Never Say I Am An Artist...i Am A Person Who Does Those Things.