The moon hung over the planet Earth, a dead thing over a dying thing.
Stained glass, engraved glass, frosted glass; give me plain glass.
They're beautiful. But sad.' Everything's sad if you make it so, I said.
Art's cruel. You can get away with murder with words. But a picture is like a window straight through to your inmost heart.
And I just can't live in this present. I would go mad if I did.
Between skin and skin, there is only light.