“They yell at me because I can’t see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.”

“I lift my arm out of the water. It's a log. Put it back under and it blows up even bigger. People see the log and call it a twig. They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.”

“Nobody can see the trouble I see, nobody knows my sorrow.”

“When I write, I can be heard. And known. But nobody has to look at me. Nobody has to see me at all.”

“Nobody can stop me. But only because I haven’t started yet.”

“A part of me wants to believe that I was born an artist. That it was my inexorable destiny to become a writer. I can’t see any other way, I can’t see a different path. It makes being an artist something special. The world can’t stop me, simply because I am who I am. There’s nothing that can define me more than being an artist. It’s simple, it’s easy to understand, and it adds an almost transcendental element to art.”