If you let them kill you, they will

2 p.m. beer nothing matters but flopping on a mattress with cheap dreams and a beer as the leaves die and the horses die and the landladies stare in the halls; brisk the music of pulled shades, a last man's cave in an eternity of swarm and explosion; nothing but the dripping sink, the empty bottle, euphoria, youth fenced in, stabbed and shaven, taught words propped up to die.

In a more universal sense, we only get one thing. You know...a head stone if we're lucky; if not, green grass.

A man who can beat the horses can do anything he makes up his mind to do.

as a child i suppose i was not quite normal. my happiest times were when i was left alone in the house on a saturday.

I was laying in bed one night and I thought 'I'll just quit - to hell with it.' And another little voice inside me said 'Don't quit - save that tiny little ember of spark.' And never give them that spark because as long as you have that spark, you can start the greatest fire again.

There are only two things wrong with money: too much or too little.