Ultimately Warhol's private moral reference was to the supreme kitsch of the Catholic church.

My books piled up before me for my use waiting in space where I placed them, they haven't disappeared, time's left its remnants and qualities for me to use -- my words piled up, my texts, my manuscripts, my loves.

It's very much related to the American tycoon. To William Randolph Hearst, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, that whole stratum of American acquisitive evil. Monopolistic, acquisitive evil. Ugly evil. The ugly American. The ugly American at his ugly worst. That's exactly what it is.

My own experience is that a certain kind of genius among students is best brought out in bed.

The suffering itself is not so bad; it's the resentment against suffering that is the real pain.

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! Dreams! adorations! illumnations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!