On the meridian of time, there is no injustice: there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.

Somewhere along the way one discovers that what one has to tell is not nearly so important as the telling itself.

The waking mind, you see, is the least serviceable in the arts.

I felt free and chained at the same time - like one feels just before election, when all the crooks have been nominated and you are beseeched to vote for the right man.

Were there a Christian so faithful to his God as I was to her we would all be Jesus Christ today.

I like the one about the little soulworms that fly out of the nest for the resurrection.

The world itself is pregnant with failure, is the perfect manifestation of imperfection, of the consciousness of failure.