She walked in the shadow of Rango with a great feeling of being taken out of herself, of having no knowledge of what was happening to her, merely a pervading sense of flow.

Death from disillusion is not instantaneous, and there are no mercy killers for the disillusioned.

A man fell in love with Jeanne, and she tried to love him. But she complained that he uttered such ordinary words, that he could never say the magic phrase which would open her being.

He was jealous of her future, and she of his past.

I cannot concentrate all my friendship on any single one of my friends because no one is complete enough in himself.

We do not see the world as it is. We see the word as we are.

Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body's breath, and the strings' wails and moans are echoes of the body's music. It is the body's vibrations which ripple from the fingers. And the mystery of the withheld theme, known to jazz musicians alone, is like the mystery of our secret life. We give to others only peripheral improvisations.