Maybe when I get in the grave, things will be beautiful.

And yet women-good women--frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep.

Some nights I knew that if I slept I would die.

There's a small balcony here, the door is open and I can see the lights of the cars on the Harbor Freeway south, they never stop, that roll of lights, on and on. All those people. What are they doing? What are they thinking? We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't.

I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.

I didn't feel that way about it. I had been playing with death for some time. I can't say we were the best of friends but we were well acquainted.

the way to create art is to burn and destroy ordinary concepts and to substitute them with new truths that run down from the top of the head and out of the heart