Nothing else wounds so deeply and irreparably. Nothing else robs us of hope so much as being unloved by one we love

I dreamed I spoke in anothers languageI dreamed I lived in anothers skinI dreamed I was my own belovedI dreamed I was a tigers kin.I dreamed that Eden lived inside meAnd when I breathed a garden cameI dreamed I knew all of CreationI dreamed I knew the Creators name.I dreamed--and this dream was the finest--That all I dreamed was real and trueAnd we would live in joy foreverYou in me and me in you.

any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.

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 keep a bedside journal. I am very affected by dream information. They might be scary to other people but theyre mine so they dont feel scary. Id wake up in a cold sweat if I didnt dream these things...