As a recluse I couldn't bear traffic. It had nothing to do with jealousy, I simply disliked people, crowds, anywhere, except at my readings. People diminished me, they sucked me dry.

I don’t understand people, never will. It looks like I got to travel pretty much alone.

I would certainly end up forever crying the blues into a coffee cup in a park for old men playing chess or silly games of some sort.

I don't remember going to bed, but in the morning, there I was.

my hands dead my heart dead silence adagio of rocks the world ablaze that's the best for me.

Long before I became 'rich and famous' I just sat round drinking wine and staring at the walls.

one more creature dizzy with love