Oh, if the moon only had a secret, if the moon only held a truth. But the moon was just the moon.

It is not man who is the enemy of the human species. It is the irrational; it is the spiritual when it is divorced from the material; from the lesson in one beating heart or one bleeding vein.

Artists are meant to be madmen, to disturb and shock us.

I think love can save the world. When we love, we completely recognize the value of the other.

And then there came the pounding of another drum, as if another giant were coming yards behind him, and each giant, intent on his own drum, gave no notice to the rhythm of the other. The sound grew louder and louder until it seemed to fill not just my hearing but all my senses, to be throbbing in my lips and fingers, in the flesh of my temples, in my veins.

As for oblivion, well, we can wait a little while for that.

I'm going to keep on dealing with the supernatural in a lot of ways.