I Could Not Make A

All I Ever Really Want To Know Is How Other People Are Making It Through Life—where Do They Put Their Body, Hour By Hour, And How Do They Cope Inside Of It.

The Job Of The Artist Is To Point At Things.

I Don't Tally The World, Asking, "would This Annoy You? Would This Annoy You?" That's So Far Removed From Where I'm At When I'm In The Trenches Struggling With How To Express Things That I Don't Fully Understand Myself.

I Eat An Egg Every Morning, And When I'm Done, I Almost Always Have The Thought: There. Now Even If I'm Captured And Starved, I'll Be Able To Live Off The Protein Of That Egg For A While.

I Steeled Myself Against Laughter; I Would Rather Die Than Laugh. I Didn’t Laugh, I Did Not Laugh. But I Died, I Did Die.