She's a hypnotist collector; you are a walking antique.

Yesterday is just a memory.

I'd been going though his trash. He knocked me down. I was glad to see him, even though he was banging my head against the sidewalk. Afterwards these bums come over and say, 'Did he get much money?' I say, 'Money'? That was Bob Dylan.

The world of research has gone berserk. Too much paper work.

I define nothing. Not beauty, not patriotism. I take each thing as it is, without prior rules about what it should be.

The woman I love she got a prize fighter nose, cauliflower ears and a run in her hose.

And I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinking.