At first she beckoned and lured one into her world; then, she blurred the passageways, confused all the images, as if to elude detection.

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.

The human father has to be confronted and recognized as human, as man who created a child and then, by his absence, left the child fatherless and then Godless.

I sat there for three hours and did not feel the time or the boredom of our talk and its foolish disconnection. As long as I could hear his voice, I was quite lost, quite blind, quite outside my own self.

You fall in love with people's minds.

The way to recognize a dead word is that it exudes boredom.

I can’t let you go now. I want to go places with you; obscure little places, just to be able to say: here I came with her.