Night and solitude. Why ask for another, when this music that anchors itself into you, an abstraction more concrete than the others who left you, is always true, true right to it's bones?

Imagination is the only door out of the prison of daily despair.

Life has a richer taste to the soul that is hungry and mad, even if one suffers more as a consequence.

The only worthy goal of all art is God, yes, to know the final mystery.

Poetry is the last shell of language that covers the human heart. One has to break even poetry, to know the heart.

Writing should be a process that flays open the heart and spilts it open - a expansive red sky.

If one doesn't travel, either with the feet of the body or the feet of the mind, one dies.

Inspite of intense loneliness, all artists must persevere, for in art lies redemption.