I know what is wrong and I know what is right, and I’d die for the truth in my secret life.
I have tried in my way to be free.
I had the title ‘poet,’ and maybe I was one for a while. Also, the title ‘singer’ was kindly accorded me, even though I could barely carry a tune.
I greet you from the other side Of sorrow and despair With a love so vast and shattered It will reach you everywhere
I finally broke into the prison I found my place in the chain Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows
I don’t really understand that process called reincarnation but if there is such a thing I’d like to come back as my daughter’s dog.
I don’t have any sense or urgency about any of my writing, actually. I don’t think mankind will be damaged if I don’t put out a new album or a new book.
I don’t consider myself a pessimist at all. I think of a pessimist as someone who is waiting for it to rain. And I feel completely soaked to the skin.
I didn’t want to write for pay. I wanted to be paid for what I write.
I did not know until you walked away you had the perfect ass Forgive me for not falling in love with your face or your conversation
I always considered myself a minor writer. My province is small and I try to explore it very, very thoroughly.
Every heart to love will come But like a refugee.