The mind plays tricks. It rejects things until it thinks ― or something tells it ― that the remembering can be handled.

The more I do in my life, the more I can write music about new experiences.

Immortality: A toy which people cry for, And on their knees apply for, Dispute, contend and lie for, And if allowed Would be right proud Eternally to die for.

Oil kindles extraordinary emotions and hopes, since oil is above all a great temptation. It is the temptation of ease, wealth, strength, fortune, power. It is a filthy, foul-smelling liquid that squirts obligingly up into the air and falls back to earth as a rustling shower of money.

Written By Ryszard Kapuściński

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