The trouble with this world is that everybody has to compromise and conform.

All your Western theologies, the whole mythology of them, are based on the concept of God as a senile delinquent.

No, truth is something desperate, an' she's got it. Believe me, it's something desperate, an' she's got it.

All creative work, all life in a sense, is a cri de coeur.

Take by surprise and the world gives up resistance.

Is a lifetime long enough to hold the regret that I have for that fantastically aborted but crazily sweet love affair?

In memory everything seems to happen to music.