Honesty is as rare as a man without self-pity.

Occasionally I encounter people getting into their cars who will say, "Oh, you haven't been walking lately" - like I'm a symbol of the ancient art of walking!

Whatever poetry that was in me was coming out in the form of constructing art books!

And Thames and all the rivers of the kings Ran into Mississippi and were drowned. They planted England with a stubborn trust But the cleft dust was never English dust.

One cannot balance tragedy in the scales Unless one weighs it with the tragic heart.

Defeat is a fact and victory can be a fact. If the idea is good, it will survive defeat, it may even survive the victory.

I don't think I have ever really gotten Leopold Bloom's interior ramblings out of my head! I am sure that voice continues to inspire the walking consciousness in my work - that is, the way I carry on an interior monologue as I walk through this city.