The artist like the idiot or clown sits on the edge of the world and a push may send him over it.

In reality, killing time is only the name for another of the multifarious ways by which Time kills us.

Blood is that fragile scarlet tree we carry within us.

The artist, like the idiot or clown, sits on the edge of the world, and a push may send him over it.

The only difference between an artist and a lunatic is, perhaps, that the artist has the restraint or courtesy to conceal the intensity of his obsession from all except those similarly afflicted.

A golf course outside a big town serves an excellent purpose in that it segregates, as though a concentration camp, all the idle and idiot well-to-do.

Poetry is like fish: if it's fresh, it's good; if it's stale, it's bad; and if you're not certain, try it on the cat.

For Poetry is the wisdom of the blood,That scarlet tree within, which has the powerTo make dull words bud forth and burst in flower.

I have always said that if I were a rich man, I would employ a professional praiser.

Everywhere men have unlocked the prisoners within, and from under the disguising skins the apes have leapt joyfully out.

We attended stables, as we attended church, in our best clothes, thereby no doubt showing the degree of respect due to horses.

No funny business. I’ll scream and dead or not it will hurt your ears

Life is a magnificent and magical game. To win, play with utmost care and profound love.

What does the anticipation feel like? The sensation of staring into the void, the awareness of an end’s impending arrival? Burning and being extinguished simultaneously?

War’s all either country knows, and everything seems to depend on it now.

The thing that pleases me the most about it is that young people like it. It's given kids from 6 to 16 an alternate view of music to what's been available for the past 20 years.

I had a whole new respect for directors.

War is a serious game in which a man risks his reputation, his troops, and his country. A sensible man will search himself to know whether or not he is fitted for the trade.

If there were no Carl Perkins, there would be no Beatles.

My dream is to show the fire which comes out of the horses' nostrils; the dust which rises from their hooves. I want this to be an infernal waltz.

It is a mistake to assume that if everybody does his job, it will be all right. The whole system may be in trouble.