I Blundered Into Writing.

And My Problem Was That I Always Tried To Go In Everyone's Way But My Own.

In Those Days It Was Either Live With Music Or Die With Noise, And We Chose Rather Desperately To Live.

I Am One Of The Most Irresponsible Beings That Ever Lived. Irresponsibility Is Part Of My Invisibility; Any Way You Face It, It Is A Denial. But To Whom Can I Be Responsible, And Why Should I Be, When You Refuse To See Me?

I Was Never More Hated Than When I Tried To Be Honest. Or When, Even As Just Now I've Tried To Articulate Exactly What I Felt To Be The Truth. No One Was Satisfied

America Is Woven Of Many Strands. I Would Recognise Them And Let It So Remain. Our Fate Is To Become One, And Yet Many. This Is Not Prophecy, But Description.