If I bet on humanity, I'd never cash a ticket.

I got up and walked back to my roominghouse. The moonlight was bright. My footsteps echoed in the empty street and it sounded as if somebody was following me, I looked around. I was mistaken. I was quite alone.

Joan of Arc had style. Jesus had style.

I am not a man who looks for solutions in God or politics. If somebody else wants to do the dirty work and create a better world for us and he can do it, I will accept it.

I never pump up my vulgarity. I wait for it to arrive in its own terms.

Show me a man who lives alone and has a perpetually clean kitchen, and 8 times out of 9 I'll show you a man with detestable spiritual qualities.

I'm too careless. I don't put out enough effort. I'm tired.