I stopped looking for the Dream Girl, I just wanted one that wasn’t a nightmare.
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
But my whole life has been a matter of fighting for one simple hour to do what I want to do. There was always something getting in the way of my getting to myself.
An intellectual is a man who says a simple thing in a difficult way; an artist is a man who says a difficult thing in a simple way.
Young or old, good or bad, I don’t think anything dies as slow and as hard as a writer.
You must some day die for nothing as I have lived.
You have to die a few times before you can really live.
You have to accept this reality as the madhouse walls bulge break and the terrified insane flood our ugly streets. You have to accept terrible reality.
You boys can keep your virgins give me hot old women in high heels with asses that forgot to get old.
You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.
Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.
Why do we embroider everything we say with special emphasis when all we really need to do is simply say what needs to he said? Of course the fact is that there is very little that needs to be said.
