Here is a hall without exit, a tunnel without end.

Some prisons don't allow guitar because the strings can be detached and used as weapons.

I got this idea of doing a really serious big work-it would be precisely like a novel, with a single difference: Every word of it would be true from beginning to end.

In California everyone goes to a therapist, is a therapist, or is a therapist going to a therapist.

I'll never get used to anything. Anybody that does they might as well be dead.

Clocks indeed must have their sacrifice: what is death but an offering to time and eternity?

I dream of eagles and bring forth sparrows.