If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, ‘When you’re ready’.

I wonder if you encountered this dictum first spoken by a twentieth-century statesman: "An abyss cannot be crossed in two steps.

The rain's innumerable hooves spatter on the streets and roofs.

How vulgar, this hankering after immortality, how vain, how false. Composers are merely scribblers of cave paintings. One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn't, the wolves and blizzards would be at one's throat all the sooner.

The mind abhors a vacancy & is wont to people it with phantoms.

What is any ocean but a multitude of drops?

Taro taught me that people respect spirit, but even cowards don't respect cowards.