Time is the most threatening four letter word.

He could pour himself into my little paper cup heart and my emptiness would finally have a meaning.

I write letters to you that youll never see.

In the old days when travelers would get lost they would follow the stars and I love that idea. I wish that I could rely on something as simple and magnificent as a star for all of my aching questions.

He looked at me that first day like he had just found something hed lost a thousand years ago.

Thats what dreams are really like you know Theyre not full of melting clocks or floating roses or people made out of rocks. Most of the time dreams look just like the normal world. Its your feelings that tell you somethings off. Not your mind not your intellect not something as obvious as that. The only part of you that really knows whats going on is the part of you thats most a mystery. If thats not Surrealism I dont know what is.

I dont like to make a distinction between the writer and the painter finally because I do both things anyway . Everybodys dreaming and trying to put down their dreams in the way that their hand knows best . I feel as much a unity as much comradeship with painters as I do writers .

I dont paint dreams or nightmares I paint my own reality.

The transcendental face of art is always a form of prayer.

I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. The way you love someone and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home. Or party. Your grocery list. The food you make. How your writing looks. And the way you feel. Life is art.