Oh yeah, I would have been a coal miner, I would think, if I hadn't had tuberculosis when I was 12.
What is it they want from the man that they didn't get from the work? What do they expect? What is there left when he's done with his work, what's any artist but the dregs of his work, the human shambles that follows it around?
By the time I was 9, I had the conviction that everybody in the world was an artist except plumbers or people who delivered groceries.

