It's the notion that there is no perfection - that there is a broken world and we live with broken hearts and broken lives but still there is no alibi for anything. On the contrary, you have to stand up and say hallelujah under those circumstances.

And I'll dance with you in Vienna, I'll be wearing a river's disguise. The hyacinth wild on my shoulder my mouth on the dew of your thighs. And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss. And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty, my cheap violin and my cross.

The art of longing's over, and it's never coming back.

I have tried in my way to be free.

I didn't want to write for pay. I wanted to be paid for what I write.

In dreams the truth is learned that all good works are done in the absence of a caress.

I lit a thin green candle to make you jealous of me, but the room just filled up with mosquitoes.