Writing more and more to the sound of music, writing more and more like music. Sitting in my studio tonight, playing record after record, writing, music a stimulant of the highest order, far more potent than wine.

It is in the movements of emotional crisis that human beings reveal themselves most accurately.

If you are terribly truthful, the ground will always move from under you, and you will have to shift with the constantly shifting truth.

What is love but acceptance of the other, whatever he is.

To change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one's mind and psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use.

Anxiety is loves greatest killer.

You don't find love, it finds you. It's got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what's written in the stars.