The role of the poet is almost nothing...drearily nothing. And when he steps outside of his boots and tries to get tough as our dear Ezra [Pound] did, he will get his pink little ass slapped.

I'll use the knives for spreading jam, and the gas to warm my greying love.

Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.

An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.

It's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse... no, it's the continuing series of small tragedies... not the death of his love but the shoelace that snaps with no time left.

they thought I had guts they were wrong I was only frightened of more important things

I don't know about other people, but when I wake up in the morning and put my shoes on, I think, Jesus Christ, now what?