Art is its own excuse, and it's either Art or it's something else. It's either a poem or a piece of cheese.

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out.

I seldom know what I'm going to write when I sit down. There isn't much agony and sweat of the human spirit involved in doing it. The writing's easy, it's the living that is sometimes difficult.

Food is good for the nerves and the spirit. Courage comes from the belly – all else is desperation.

Joan of Arc had style. Jesus had style.

I was beaten down long ago in some alley in another world.

It was like any other relationship, there was jealousy on both sides, there were split-ups and reconciliations. There were also fragmented moments of great peace and beauty. I often tried to get away from her and she tried to get away from me but it was difficult: Cupid, in his strange way, was really there.