“Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:Is this a holiday? what! know you not,Being mechanical, you ought not walkUpon a labouring day without the signOf your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?”

“To write a good love letter, you ought to begin without knowing what you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what you have written.”

“Art is lunging forward without certainty about where you are going or how to get there, being open to and dependent on what luck, the paint, the typo, the dissonance, give you. Without art, you're stuck with yourself as you are and life as you think life is.”

“But really, it’s probably just easiest to keep doing what I’m doing. You know how it goes. At first it’s just for the time being, until you can get your own story together, be the hero in something of your own. You tell people it’s your day job, you tell yourself it’s your day job, and then, at some point, without you noticing, it stops being your day job and just becomes your job.”

“...As we locked the front door behind us, she said, "How do you keep getting in without my knowing it? Did Jill give you a key without mentioning it to me?""Trade secret," I said."What trade is that? Cat burglar?""Yes, although I prefer the technical term.""What's that?""Music promoter.”

“How can you get very far,If you don't know who you are?How can you do what you ought,If you don't know what you've got?And if you don't know which to doOf all the things in front of you,Then what you'll have when you are throughIs just a mess without a clueOf all the best that can come trueIf you know What and Which and Who.”