There is music in words, and it can be heard you know, by thinking.

We're always attracted to the edges of what we are, out by the edges where it's a little raw and nervy.

Sometimes, you have to look back in order to understand the things that lie ahead.

Somewhere along the line the rhythms and tonalities of music elided in my brain with the sounds that words make and the rhythm that sentences have.

The difference between Socrates and Jesus is that no one had ever been put to death in Socrates' name. And that is because Socrates' ideas were never made law. Law, in whatever name, protects privilege.

I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage.