All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous unpremeditated act without benefit of experience.

Chaos is the score upon which reality is written.

The more I wrote, the more I became a human being. The writing may have seemed monstrous (to some) for it was a violation, but I became a more human individual because of it. I was getting the poison out of my system.

Every day that we fail to live out the maximum of our potentialities we kill the Shakespeare, Dante, Homer, Christ which is in us.

My hunger and curiosity drive me forward in all directions at once.

The City of New York is like an enormous citadel, a modern Carcassonne. Walking between the magnificent skyscrapers one feels the presence on the fringe of a howling, raging mob, a mob with empty bellies, a mob unshaven and in rags.

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