What were you going to do tonight?" "I was going to listen to the songs of Rachmaninoff." "Who's that?" "A dead Russian.

I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: "Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I'll be ready.

I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.

I think I need a drink.' 'Almost everybody does only they don't know it.

I went to the bathroom and threw some water on my face, combed my hair. If I could only comb that face, I thought, but I can't.

they simply never understand, do they, that sometimes solitude is one of the most beautiful things on earth?

but as God said, crossing his legs, I see where I have made plenty of poets but not so very much poetry.