I Blundered Into Writing.

Good Fiction Is Made Of That Which Is Real, And Reality Is Difficult To Come By.

I Was Looking For Myself And Asking Everyone Except Myself Questions Which I, And Only I, Could Answer.

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

Light Confirms My Reality, Gives Birth To My Form...without Light I Am Not Only Invisible But Formless As Well; And To Be Unaware Of One's Form Is To Live A Death...the Truth Is The Light And Light Is The Truth.

I Do Not Know If All Cops Are Poets, But I Know That All Cops Carry Guns With Triggers.