Wherever the crowd goes run in the other direction. They're always wrong.

I drive around the streets an inch away from weeping, ashamed of my sentimentality and possible love.

They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.

we sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning.

she was consumed by 3 simple things: drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more: youth and beauty

I'm only interested in poetry.

I can't think of any poet-recluses outside of one dead Jeffers. [Robinson Jeffers] The rest of them want to slobber over each other and hug each other. It appears to me that I am the last of the poet-recluses.