I Am Infinitely Strange To

How Can One Build A Better Self Unless On The Ruins Of The Old?

There Are Two Kinds Of Hangover: In One You Feel Ill And Incapable, In The Other You Feel Ill And Lucid.

Thomas Beecham Was A Pompous Little Band-master Who Stood Against Everything Creative In The Art Of His Time.

He Is Solid; Immovable, Iron-willed. He Showed Me One Day His Killing Bottle. I'm Imprisoned In It. Fluttering Against The Glass. Because I Can See Through It I Still Think I Can Escape. I Have Hope. But It's All An Illusion. A Thick Round Wall Of Glass.

It Came To Me…that I Didn’t Want To Be Anywhere Else In The World At That Moment, That What I Was Feeling At That Moment Justified All I Had Been Through, Because All I Had Been Through Was My Being There. I Was Experiencing…a New Self-acceptance, A Sense That I Had To Be This Mind And This Body, Its Vices And Its Virtues, And That I Had No Other Chance Or Choice.