Wherever anything lives, there is, open somewhere, a register in which time is being inscribed.
Every single day was just a box on the calendar that I could put a red X through; each one brought me closer to Lucas and to liberty.
The great man... walks across his century and leaves the marks of his feet all over it, ripping out the dates on his goloshes as he passes.
I'm not a big fan of anniversaries.
Winter makes a bridge between one year and another and, in this case, one century and the next.
I feel with ELP that I wasn't making the most of my life and I wasn't making the most of my creativity. I was marking time. I don't want to do that. Life is to short.
I don't necessarily like anniversaries that much.
My birthday, I don't really see it as a special day, to be honest. It's just another day for me.
How do you commemorate a year? A paper anniversary, but we are the words written down, not the paper.
