Making lists of reasons was sometimes a good way to figure things out.
Everything begins in Paris.
There are people whom one loves immediately and forever. Even to know they are alive in the world with one is quite enough.
Only a fool would make the bed every day.
Ireland is a wonderful place to write in. Even although the atmosphere was so Faith-laden that I was often worried that I was not writing a book to the glory of God, I had to admit that words flowed from my pen like all-get-out. To be honest, there is nothing to do in Ireland but write.
It is a city of villages, closely connected, each village dedicated to a different way of life.
I like a new clean book, freshly bound, particularly when I am the first to read it. I like dirty books - where other people have been before me, slipping fried eggs between the pages as markers - rather less.
When the artist is alive in any person, whatever his kind of work may be, he becomes an inventive, searching, daring, self-expressive creature. He becomes interesting to other people. He disturbs, upsets, enlightens, and opens ways for better understanding. Where those who are not artists are trying to close the book, he opens it and shows there are still more pages possible.
Where do the ducks go in the winter?
I consider myself neither legally nor morally bound to obey the laws made by a body in which I have no representation.
I ain't makin' music for the media. I make music for the people in the streets - that want a street level of entertainment. I'm makin' music because I have the streets to feed.