When a promise is broken, the promise still remains. In one way or another, we are all unfaithful to each other, and physical unfaithfulness is not the worst kind there is.

We think because we have words, not the other way around. The more words we have, the better able we are to think conceptually.

When the bright angel dominates, out comes a great work of art, a Michelangelo David or a Beethoven symphony.

Artists of all disciplines must be willing to go into the dark, let go control, be surprised.

The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain.

If you want to write, you need to keep an honest, unpublishable journal that nobody reads, nobody but you.

What is self-image? Who started talking about one? I rather fancy it was Madison Avenue.