All of my creation is an effort to weave a web of connection with the world: I am always weaving it because it was once broken.

Analysis does not take into account the creative products of neurotic desires.

When one is pretending the entire body revolts.

I am a winged creature who is too rarely allowed to use its wings. Ecstasies do not occur often enough.

Societies in decline have no use for visionaries.

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.

A war regarded as inevitable or even probable, and therefore much prepared for, has a very good chance of eventually being fought.