It just doesn't mean anything to me, the high-profile, big money side of things. I just want enough to live on, and to be able to get on with what I do, and hang around my friends.
Robert WyattAbout author
- Author's profession: Musician
- Nationality: english
- Born: January 28, 1945
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Her strong enchantments failing, Her towers of fear in wreck, Her limbecks dried of poisons And the knife at her neck, The Queen of air and darkness Begins to shrill and cry,`O young man, O my slayer To-morrow you shall die.'O Queen of air and darkness I think 'tis truth you say, And I shall die to-morrow; But you shall die to-day.
A. E. Housman
R wrote Delahaye about all that had happened to him and about what he, R, wanted:
My friend,
You’re eating white flour and mud in your pigsty. I don’t miss Charleville. I don’t miss being a bored pig where the sun dries up all brains but sloth. Your brains or feelings’re being dried up: dead pig Delahaye.
Emotions are the movers of this world.
Me: I’m thirsty. What I’m thirsty for—whom I’m thirsty for—I can’t get so I drink poisons. I’ve got to free myself. From what? Pain? Oh—for more...
Kathy Acker