Living in a state of psychic unrest, in a Borderland, is what makes poets write and artists create.

I am mad - but I choose this madness.

I want the freedom to carve and chisel my own face, to staunch the bleeding with ashes, to fashion my own gods out of my entrails.

We are taught that the body is an ignorant animal intelligence dwells only in the head. But the body is smart. It does not discern between external stimuli and stimuli from the imagination. It reacts equally viscerally to events from the imagination as it does to real events.

Books saved my sanity, knowledge opened the locked places in me and taught me first how to survive and then how to soar.

I had to leave home so I could find myself, find my own intrinsic nature buried under the personality that had been imposed on me.

Living in a state of psychic unrest, in a Borderland, is what makes poets write and artists create.