The final lesson a writer learns is that everything can nourish the writer.

People who want a sane, static, measurable world take the first aspect of an event or person and stick to it, with an almost self-protective obstinacy, or by a natural limitation of their imaginations. They do not indulge in either deepening or magnifying.

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.

The one who travels like a lover searching for a new passion is suddenly blessed with new eyes, new ears, new senses.

To love and to labor is the sum of living.

I don't wish power, only art -art and passion.

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.