I don't read reviews and I don't know what to do with opinions, so I just lose them. They take up space, they become a process of manufacturing a persona, which I want to avoid.

Meanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.

They were two superior eels at the bottom of the tank and they recognized each other like italics.

What is the fear inside language? No accident of the body can make it stop burning.

Do you remember when they taught cursive in schools? I think they don't anymore. But I still enjoy it - just the physical act and all the - the whole business of making a thing out of language.

Philosophy - hopeless. Yet it gives me hope.

Philosophers say man forms himself in dialogue.