I felt the kind of desperation, I think, that cancels the possibility of empathy...that makes you unkind.

...the words make our silences easier--they're the current that runs under them.

But even then I knew how it was going to be, I could feel the coming silence in the long, poisonous pauses that expanded as the night progressed.

The abundance of ordinary things, their convenient arrangement here, seemed for the moment a personal gift to me. As did my ability to notice this, to be grateful for it.

A secret weighs on us, a terrible secret weighs with a terrible weight.

All writing is filth

Truthfulness is the golden thread that binds good lives, good relationships, and our very legacy.

I never say what I mean, but I always manage to say something similar.

I work pretty much every day. I can't really separate it from life, so I guess the work is my life.

Moira was like an elevator with open sides. She made us dizzy.

Fear can come across in absence of sharp corners, locked windows in hotel rooms, locks, passwords, security...fairytales (the type of storylines)...in fact everywhere.

One puts on black robes to scare the hell out of white people, while the other puts on white robes to scare the hell out of blacks.

Today, I bought a pastrami sandwich: $13.75. Walked back out in the street - genuine Rolex watch: six bucks.

I just feel that music is a great life, because it's very rewarding. It's a gratification. You do this for yourself, and you also do this for other people.

Every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle thoughts.