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.

I want so much that is not here and do not know where to go.

If you want to create, you'll create.

I'll get back to the whores and the horses and the booze, while there's time.

I don't know if this is true to you but for me sometimes it gets so bad that anything else say like looking at a bird on an overhead power line seems as great as a Beethoven symphony. then you forget it and you're back again.

I sit on the couch watching her arrange her long red hair before my bedroom mirror. she pulls her hair up and piles it on top of her head- she lets her eyes look at my eyes- then she drops her hair and lets it fall down in front of her face. we go to bed and I hold her speechlessly from the back my arm around her neck I touch her wrists and hands feel up to her elbows no further.

If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.