Most of the time in our world, truth is just opinion.

This last night we tear into each other, as if to wound, as if to find the key to everything before morning.

Research can be a big clunker. It's difficult to know how you can make the historical light.

Sleep is a prison for a boy who has friends to meet.

In Canada pianos needed water. You opened up the back and left a full glass of water, and a month later the glass would be empty. Her father had told her about the dwarfs who drank only at pianos, never in bars.

The music of Gavin Bryars falls under no category. It is mongrel, full of sensuality and wit and is deeply moving. He is one of the few composers who can put slapstick and primal emotion alongside each other. He allows you to witness new wonders in the sounds around you by approaching them from a completely new angle. With a third ear maybe.

In the desert the most loved waters, like a lover's name, are carried blue in your hands, enter your throat. One swallows absence.