Virginia Woolf

One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.

The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mold of the body and mind.

The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.

I'm always writing lyrics. I have so many lyrics on so many stray pieces of paper. Everywhere.

Objects in pictures should so be arranged as by their very position to tell their own story.