Survival Is Triumph Enough.

The Artist Lives In An Atmosphere Of Perpetual Failure.

The Truth Of The Matter Was Stories Was Everything And Everything Was Stories. Everybody Told Stories. It Was A Way Of Saying Who They Were In The World. It Was Their Understanding Of Themselves. It Was Letting Themselves Know How They Believed The World Worked, The Right Way And The Way That Was Not So Right.

Teaching, Real Teaching, Is - Or Ought To Be - A Messy Business.

What The Artist Owes The World Is His Work; Not A Model For Living.

Speaks Well Of A Man To Need A Little Something In This World. I Wouldn't Trust A Man Who Could Git Through It Cold Sober.