I am wandering inside, wandering through my past, trying to see if there is a place there strong enough to hold me.

(B)ut who can start over when memories never leave you? —Ruth Mendenberg

I want someone to pinch me so I can feel something, anything. I'm sick of this numbness, of feeling so alone and outside of everything, but I know it's too dangerous to wake up." —Ruth Mendenberg

Will you be all right?" she askedHow could

In my schoolboy reveries, we were always two fugitives riding on the spine of a book, eager to escape into worlds of fiction and secondhand dreams.

I don't desire a change of scenery or exotic experiences. My heart yearns for familiarity, stability, the comfort of home- and my sanity depends on it.

I strain to hear, but my old ears, for all their obscene hugeness, pick up nothing but snippets:

In Holland, everyone is an expert in painting and in tulips.

I was just, like, not at all the office type; I was the artist type.

I'll always write music. Whether I release a record, whether I let the public hear it or not, I'm always writing music.

My life is existing. Cinema is certainly not my life

If an expert says it can't be done, get another expert.

God bless my father, but he always spoke in this continental, literary accent, probably because he was a professor of comparative literature and he made the decision to speak with distinction.

Laws are not made like lime-twigs or nets, to catch everything that toucheth them; but rather like sea-marks, to guide from shipwreck the ignorant passenger.