We love to be hurt and we love to have our unhealing wounds opened and reopened again: we sit staring in the mirror of art, fascinated by our own deformities.

The fact to which we have got to cling, as to a lifebelt, is that it is possible to be a normal decent person and yet be fully alive.

I know too much and not enough

Scientist alone is true poet he gives us the moon he promises the stars he'll make us a new universe if it comes to that.

Night is the wonderful opportunity to take rest, to forgive, to smile, to get ready for all the battles that you have to fight tomorrow.

What is obscenity? And to whom?

America, how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?