What good is music? None ... and that is the point. To the world and its states and armies and factories and Leaders, music says, 'You are irrelevant'; and, arrogant and gentle as a god, to the suffering man it says only, 'Listen.' For being saved is not the point. Music saves nothing. Merciful, uncaring, it denies and breaks down all the shelters, the houses men build for themselves, that they may see the sky.

The creative adult is the child who has survived.

It is hard to swear when sex is not dirty and blasphemy does not exist.

Fiction—and poetry and drama— cleanse the doors of perception.

The machine conceals the machinations.

Even a poet cannot get everything right.

Oh, never and forever aren't for mortals, love. But we won't be parted till I know it's right that we part.