Love is the perception of individuals. Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real.

Perhaps when distant people on other planets pick up some wavelength of ours all they hear is a continuous scream.

The sending of a letter constitutes a magical grasp upon the future.

Words are the most subtle symbols which we possess and our human fabric depends on them.

What makes you imagine ... that anything of importance can be taught in a school?

Our actions are like ships which we may watch set out to sea, and not know when or with what cargo they will return to port.

Art is not cozy and it is not mocked. Art tells the only truth that ultimately matters. It is the light by which human things can be mended. And after art there is, let me assure you all, nothing.