Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are.

Why do you insist upon destroying yourself?

And if there is anybody out there who is crazy enough to want to become a writer, I'd say go ahead, spit in the eye of the sun, hit those keys, it's the best madness going, the centuries need help, the species cry for light and gamble and laughter. Give it to them. There are enough words for all of us.

Why do we embroider everything we say with special emphasis when all we really need to do is simply say what needs to he said? Of course the fact is that there is very little that needs to be said.

Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.

Sweet Christ, you must know that a man will go further for any poem than for any woman ever born.

That the young rich smell the stink of the poor and learn to find it a bit amusing. They had to laugh, otherwise it would be too terrifying.