No one masters the heart.

English, I know you ... you are German with a license to kill.

It's four in the morning, the end of december I'm writing you now just to see if you're better.

Be With Me In The Phases Of My Work Because My Brain Feels Like It Has Been Whipped And I Yearn To Make A Small Perfect Thing Which Will Live In Your Morning Like Curious Static Through A President's Elegy Or A Nude Hunchback Acquiring A Tan On The Crowded Oily Beach.

Journalists, especially English journalists, were very cruel to me. They said I only knew three chords when I knew five!

I found that things became a lot easier when I no longer expected to win. You abandon your masterpiece and sink into the real masterpiece.

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