If I had not existed, someone else would have written me, Hemingway, Dostoyevsky, all of us.
Hemingway shot himself. I don't like a man that takes the short way home.
Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do.
The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.
If happy I can be I will, if suffer I must I can.
How do our lives ravel out into the no-wind, no-sound, the weary gestures wearily recapitulant: echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-string: in sunset we fall into furious attitudes, dead gestures of dolls.