Legend adheres to artists whose deaths seem the corollaries of their works.

If you want to do creative work, there are tremendous sacrifices involved, and tremendous financial sacrifices too. It requires dedication and solitude.

Jack Kerouac did what he most wanted to do. He wrote great prose. He became the writer he wanted to be.

Everyone knew in the 1950s why a girl from a nice family left home. The meaning of her theft of herself from her parents was clear to all - as well as what she'd be up to in that room of her own.

A lot of artists don't survive, do they? You work very hard and finally you get what you want and it destroys you.

Nothing ever happened except God.

Legend adheres to artists whose deaths seem the corollaries of their works.