Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.

There is an ugliness in being paid for work one does not like.

Life is so fluid that one can only hope to capture the living moment, to capture it alive and fresh ... without destroying that moment.

Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous.

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.

This diary is my kief, hashish and opium pipe. This is my drug and my vice.

I have no brakes on...analysis is for those who are paralyzed by life.