Now That I Am Dead,

I Myself Have 12 Hats And Each One Represents A Different Personality. Why Just Be Yourself.

What Is The Real Breath Of A Man — The Breathing Out Or The Breathing In?

Some Days I Do Appreciate Things More, Eggs, Flowers, But Then I Decide I'm Only Having An Attack Of Sentimentality, My Brain Going Pastel Technicolor, Like A Beautiful-sunset Greeting Cards They Used To Make So Many Of In California. High-gloss Hearts. The Danger Is Grayout.

For Me The Experience Of Writing Is Really An Experience Of Losing Control.... I Think It's Very Much Like Dreaming Or Like Surfing. You Go Out There And Wait For A Wave, And When It Comes It Takes You Somewhere And You Don't Know Where It'll Go.

A Fist Is More Than The Sum Of Its Fingers.