Money is sullen And wisdom is sly, But youth is the pollen That blows through the sky And does not ask why.

Books are not men and yet they are alive. They are man's memory and his aspiration, the link between his present and his past, the tools he builds with.

The art finds kingdoms in a foot of ground.

Truth is a hard deer to hunt. If you eat too much truth at once, you might die of the truth.

Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon's teeth. Our children know and suffer the armed men.

I have fallen in love with American names, the sharp, gaunt names that never get fat.

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.