Every heart to Love will come, but like a refugee.
You lose your grip, and then you slip into the Masterpiece.
Any startling piece of work has a subversive element in it, a delicious element often. Subversion is only disagreeable when it manifests in political or social activity.
The term clinical depression finds its way into too many conversations these days. One has a sense that a catastrophe has occurred in the psychic landscape.
We used to play music for fun. Much more than now. Now nobody picks up a guitar unless they’re paid for it.
If I knew where the good songs came from, I’d go there more often. It’s a mysterious condition. It’s much like the life of a Catholic nun. You’re married to a mystery.
I have tried in my way to be free.
I didn’t want to write for pay. I wanted to be paid for what I write.
I am an old scholar, better-looking now than when I was young. That’s what sitting on your ass does to your face.
As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder.
And this is our time-keeper, with a passion for percussion.
My page was too white My ink was too thin The day wouldn’t write What the night pencilled in.
Here is your cross, Your nails and your hill; And here is your love, That lists where it will.
I don’t trust my inner feelings, inner feelings come and go.
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love...
We do what only lovers can: make a gift out of necessity.
Everytime you grab at love you will lose a snowflake of your memory.
The less I was of who I was, the better I felt.
Creators care nothing for their systems except that they be unique.
I finally broke into the prison I found my place in the chain Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows.