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

yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.

Most of the world was mad. And the part that wasn't mad was angry. And the part that wasn't mad or angry was just stupid. I had no chance. I had no choice. Just hang on and wait for the end. It was hard work. It was the hardest work imaginable.

we drove on and on, past little villages and both good things and bad things were happening to the people in those villages too, but I still was nothing but arms and ears and eyes and maybe there'd be either some good luck for me or more death tomorrow.

It's hot tonight and half the neighborhood is drunk. the other half is dead. if I have any advice about writing poetry it's - don't. I'm going to send out for some fried chicken.

We’ve died so many times now that we can only wonder why we still care.