All a guy needed was a chance. Somebody was alway controlling who got a chance and who didn't.

and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed, shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,"look, look at this!" but they don't understand, they say something like,"you say you've been influenced by Celine?" no," I hold the cat up,"by what happens, by things like this, by this, by this!

I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.

If I stop writing I am dead. And that's the only way I'll stop: dead.

we sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning.

she is no longer the beautiful woman she was. she sends photos of herself sitting upon a rock by the ocean alone and damned. I could have had her once. I wonder if she thinks I could have saved her?

People do too much. They say too much.