They ended every speech with the word hiro, which means: like I said. Thus each man took responsibility for intruding into the inarticulate murmur of the spheres. To hiro they added the word koue, a cry of joy or distress, according to whether it was sung or howled. Thus they essayed to piece the mysterious curtain which hangs between all talking men: at the end of every utterance a man stepped back, so to speak, and attempted to interpret his words to the listener, attempted to subvert the beguiling intellect with the noise of true emotion.

Ring the bells that still can ring.

No one masters the heart.

When you stop thinking about yourself all the time, a certain sense of repose overtakes you.

And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moths.

When we are touched by a song, it is because the artist cannot hide himself.

You were Marlon Brando, I was Steve McQueen, you were K.Y. Jelly, I was Vaseline.