I see bodies as individual things.

Does the moon play only silver when it strums the galaxy?

My individual, psychological descent coincided, ironically, with my ascent into the public eye.

Richard got married to a figure skater, and he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percolator.

It's life's illusions that I recall, I really don't know life at all

Unlike some of my peers, I haven't really hit a writer's block. When I hit a block I just paint, which is an old crop rotation trick.

I see music as fluid architecture.