Bad luck for the young poet would be a rich father, an early marriage, an early success or the ability to do anything well.

I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn't make for an interesting person. I didn't want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.

‎"she’ mad but she’ magic. there’ no lie in her fire.

Sex is interesting, but it's not totally important. I mean it's not even as important (physically) as excretion. A man can go seventy years without a piece of ass, but he can die in a week without a bowel movement.

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.

there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often when you do it's too late and there's nothing worse than too late

Humanity, you never had it from the beginning." That was my motto.