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

I kind of limp along like so many of us do in these realms. Occasionally I've felt the grace of another presence in my life. But I can't develop any kind of spiritual structure on that.

We are awakening from the dream of isolation, from the dream of loneliness, and it's a terrible shock.

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

I've always held the song in high regard because songs have got me through so many sinks of dishes and so many humiliating courting events.

I couldn't feel so I learned to touch.

The wars they will be fought again The holy dove be caught again bought and sold and bought again; the dove is never free.