I feel that very strongly: having been an academic, having been tempted by the invitation to stay on to become a Ph.D., a professor, and all that, one side of me certainly does respect all disciplines, as long as they don't ossify.
I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have.
What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination.
Aloneness and selfness are too important to betray for company.
A black-sharded lady keeps me in a parrot cage.
Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?