Grant that the true organ with which the beautiful is apprehended is the imagination, and it follows that all arts are likely to affect the feelings indirectly.

When I'm making stuff, the thing that excites me most is not the result, but the process and trying to do something I've never done before.

I'm just going to make the music I love to make, and I'm going to mature with my music.

Drawing is . . . not an exercise of particular dexterity, but above all a means of expressing intimate feelings and moods.

There should be change - the West should understand our music and culture, and vice versa. With such collaboration, artists can come closer to each other and come to know each other.

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain By the false azure in the windowpane; I was the smudge of ashen fluff -and I Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky. And from the inside, too, I'd duplicate Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate: Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass Hang all the furniture above the grass, And how delightful when a fall of snow Covered my glimpse of lawn and reached up so As to make chair and bed exactly stand Upon that snow, out in that crystal land!