I think I've ignored it so much so that when the paparazzi are following me I really don't see them. You don't see them anymore.
This day's nothingness as if from spite became a flame and scorched the lips of children and poets.
Read for yourselves, read for the sake of your inspiration, for the sweet turmoil in your lovely head. But also read against yourselves, read for questioning and impotence, for despair and erudition. . . and also read those whose darkness or malice or madness or greatness you can't understand because only in this way will you grow, outlive yourself, and become what you are.
Time takes life away and gives us memory, gold with flame, black with embers.
In summer the empire of insects spreads.
A certain traveler who knew many continents was asked what he found most remarkable of all. He replied: the ubiquity of sparrows.
Once in a while it vanishes - in the sense that I become deaf to beauty for a week or two or three. This coming and going of the inner life - because this is what it is - is a curse and a blessing. I don't need to explain why it's a curse. A blessing because it brings about a movement, an energy which, when it peaks, creates a poem. Or a moment of happiness.
Your desire for consistency itself will set you on the right path. As long as you keep going up, never mind if you come down once or twice.
Woody Allen, when we did Vicky Cristina Barcelona, said to Rebecca Hall, "Do it one time happy, one time sad, and one time indifferent, as I won't know where you should be until I'm editing this, in terms of your emotions. "
I'm a light sleeper, but so long as I'm wearing earplugs, I sleep well.
I couldn't even go to the bathroom alone. My mother or a social worker always went with me.