The Phrasing Didn't Work As Well.

Maybe The Heart Is Part Of The Mist. And That's All That There Is Or Could Ever Exist. Maybe And Maybe And Maybe Some More. Maybe's The Exit That I'm Looking For.

By The Time I Was 12 Or 13, I Felt That I Was Special, Because I Could Play The Guitar And Write Songs.

I Have My Books And My Poetry To Protect Me; I Am Shielded In My Armor, Hiding In My Room, Safe Within My Womb. I Touch No One And No One Touches Me. I Am A Rock, I Am An Island.

Philip Larkin Didn't Write For Several Years Before His Life Ended. And When He Was Asked Why He Didn't Write, He Said The Muse Deserted Him. And When I Read That, It Really Had A Profound Effect Upon Me, Sort Of Scared Me. So That's Why I Think I Have No Right To Assume That Some Thought Is Going To Come... But I Think, In My Imagination, If It Is It, There Will Probably Be Something Else I'm Interested In.

Being An Artist Doesn't Mean That You're A Good Artist. That Was The Bargain I First Made With Myself: I'd Say, I'm An Artist, But I'm Not Really Very Good.