My songs pretty much revolve in my brain most of the time - usually, whatevers coming next.
The summer has ended. The garden withers. The mornings become chill. I am thirty, I am thirty-four -the years turn dry as leaves.
To write? Because all this is going to vanish. The only thing left will be the prose and poems, the books, what is written down. Man was very fortunate to have invented the book. Without it the past would completely vanish, and we would be left with nothing, we would be naked on earth.
There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and only those things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real.
Love must wait; it must break one’s bones.
In the war time many of the publishing houses were privately owned, a single publisher or a publisher and a few associates who were responsible for everything. They could take whatever risks they wanted, could essentially publish what they liked according to their taste. Publishers today are working for big corporations. They have different pressures. I don't think they can make decisions quite as independently as they used to be able to. They have more corporate and financial responsibilities weighing on them. They're not free to go broke or go to jail.
Certain things I remember exactly as they were. They are merely discolored a bit by time, like coins in the pocket of a forgotten suit. Most of the details, though, have long since been transformed or rearranged to bring others of them forward. Some, in fact, are obviously counterfeit; they are no less important. One alters the past to form the future.
The more centralized the power, the less compromises need to be made in architecture.
The only worthwhile achievements of man are those which are socially useful.
We all have a cross-gender character: Every woman has a man that they can play, and every man has a woman that they can play.
What is it about business that makes us laugh - when things go wrong, which they do all the time (why, I still wish I knew) then we need to laugh.