Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.

The incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic originality of genius.

Does nobody understand?

It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born.

I am not likely to die of bashfulness but neither am I prepared to be crucified to attest the perfection of my art. I dislike to hear of any stray heroics on the prowl for me.

I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses