I wouldn't mind writing a long book which is going to occupy me for the rest of my life.
Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering.
Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.
The birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the Author.
Painting can feign reality without having seen it.
Don't say mourning. It's too psychoanalytic. I'm not mourning. I'm suffering.
. . . language is never innocent.
I'm troubled. I'm dissatisfied. I'm Irish.
We say grace and we say ma'am. If you ain't in to that, we don't give a damn.
I get paid to do the thing I love most, and maybe that makes blending into the crowd impossible sometimes, but I wouldnt trade it for the world.
I don't take vacations. I don't get sick. I don't observe major holidays. I'm a jack hammer.