Things pass us by. Nobody can catch them. That's the way we live our lives.

This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock built when peace filled the world.

Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.

There's no war that will end all wars.

I'm going to take you out of here ... I'm going to take you home, to the world where you belong, where cats with bent tails live, and there are little backyards, and alarm clocks ring in the morning.

Perhaps most people in the world aren’t trying to be free, Kafka. They just think they are. It’s all an illusion. If they really were set free, most people would be in a real pickle. You’d better remember that. People actually prefer not being free?

I keep to this routine every day without variation. The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it's a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind.