Had the price of looking been blindness, I would have looked.

Words are your business, boy. Not just the word. Words are everything. The key to the rock, the answer to the question.

To hell with being ashamed of what you liked.

And while the ice was melting to form a flood in which I threatened to drown I awoke one afternoon to find that my first northern winter had set.

I was never more hated than when I tried to be honest. Or when, even as just now I've tried to articulate exactly what I felt to be the truth. No one was satisfied

In those days it was either live with music or die with noise, and we chose rather desperately to live.

Injustice wears ever the same harsh face wherever it shows itself.