The rebellion of art is a daily rebellion against the state of living death routinely called real life.

I dreamed I was a single moment in a single day. A note struck and vanished. A sounding. A reckoning. Gone.

Explore me' you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know.

The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love.

There is no sense in loving someone you can never wake up to except by chance.

Many people feel their outer self isn't the whole self.

As people get older they have these rigid patterns that they impose on themselves, and it kills them. They become dull, they become dead to new experience, they become afraid, biased, and bigoted. It's really simply to do with refusing new experience.