Cinema, heir of alchemy, last of an erotic science.
The time you wait subtracts the joy The heads the angel you destroy
Music is your only friend until the end...
Where are the feasts we were promised? Where is the wine, the new wine, dying on the vine.
Getting drunk . . . you're in complete control up to a point. It's your choice, every time you take a sip. You have a lot of small choices. It's like . . . I guess it's the difference between suicide and slow capitulation . . .
People are terrified to be set free - they hold on to their chains. They fight anyone who tries to break those chains. It's their security... How can they expect me or anyone else to set them free if they don't really want to be free?