Except for a couple of hours in the morning which I passed in the company of a sage I stayed in bed without food only a few mouthfuls of water “you are a fine looking old man” I said to myself in the mirror “and what is more you have the correct attitude You don’t care if it ends or if it goes on And as for the women and the music there will be plenty of that in Paradise” Then I went to the Mosque of Memory to express my gratitude

As the mist leaves no scar On the dark green hill So my body leaves no scar On you and never will

It's easy to look down from the summit you've reached, or even the summit I've reached, and talk about the responsibilities of the artist, but most people are just trying to get their foot in the door and make a living.

I have to finish it in order to know whether it deserves to survive.

You've got a deadline. Well, I do, too: death.

The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it's overturned the order of the soul.

I always felt I was scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to get a song together.