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

my hands dead my heart dead silence adagio of rocks the world ablaze that's the best for me.

It's just that the grape has me down.

we know God is dead, they've told us, but listening to you I wasn't sure.

People don't do me much good.

I guess we often get the deep blues, both of us, and wonder what it all means- the people, the buildings, the day by day things, the waste of time, of ourselves.

I think I need a drink.' 'Almost everybody does only they don't know it.