The dreamer whose dreams are non-utilitarian has no place in this world. In this world the poet is anathema, the thinker a fool, the artist an escapist, the man of vision a criminal.

Everyman, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths.

For the artist to attach himself to his work, or identify himself with it, is suicidal.

You have to write a million words before you find your voice as a writer.

I believe that today more than ever a book should be sought after even if it has only one great page in it. We must search for fragments, splinters, toenails, anything that has ore in it, anything that is capable of resuscitating the body and the soul.

Real love is never perplexed, never qualifies, never rejects, never demands. It replenishes, by grace of restoring unlimited circulation. It burns, because it knows the true meaning of sacrifice. It is life illuminated.

Life is 440 horsepower in a 2-cylinder engine.