Whether if soul did not exist time would exist or not, is a question that may fairly be asked; for if there cannot be someone to count there cannot be anything that can be counted, so that evidently there cannot be number; for number is either what has been, or what can be, counted.
My parents didn’t care very much what I did, and that was probably a blessing.
I was very much a tough New York street kid. I went to a school where you had to learn how to get along with everybody or fight with everybody, and I did my fair share of both.
I was tired. I peaked. I left when I was on top. One year, I did 280 concerts.
I flew aeroplanes, parachuted, walked on my own across the Himalayas – you name it; if it was dangerous, I did it.
At the time I was growing up, literature was involved with the so-called confessional poets. And I was not interested in that. I did not think that specific and personal perspective functioned well for the reader at all.
I did try to write stories in college because I was interested in writing, and I was interested in the sound of language, but I was just no good at narrative and at fiction.
I would not be here now if I did not have anti-depressants.
It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong.
I’ve had a number of near misses during my travels that in retrospect seem of greater concern than they did at the time. I guess that is what happens with age.