Anxiety is love's greatest killer, because it is like the stranglehold of the drowning.

One may gain one truth at the expense of another.

I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly.

The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic.

The leaf fall of his words, the stained glass hues of his moods, the rust in his voice, the smoke in his mouth, his breath on my vision like human breath blinding a mirror.

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

I don't tell the truth any more to those who can't make use of it. I tell it mostly to myself, because it always changes me.