When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too—leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back. Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.

'1984' is not a wonder tale. Not only could it happen, but it has happened, but under different names.

Whatever is silenced will clamor to be heard, though silently.

In the animal world individuals cheat, as do we.

Screw poetry, it’s you I want, your taste, rain on you, mouth on your skin.

No one knows what cuases an outer landscape to become an inner one.

I was born in the Ottawa General Hospital right after the Gray Cup Football Game in 1939. Six months later, I was backpacked into the Quebec bush. I grew up in and out of the bush, in and out of Ottawa, Sault Ste. Marie and Toronto.