Pity speaks to grief more sweetly than a band of instruments.
-But I've just noticed that my mind is asleep.
I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.
The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses
Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
I dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic. I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
Situation seems to be the mould in which men's characters are formed.
If we'd kept a clean sheet tonight we'd have won 1-0.
People wonder why I go out with models with nothing between their heads
Each album comes from definitely a different period in the evolution of each of us individually as creators and the role that we take in life. The external stimuli changed. . . so the songs are full of lots of different meanings.