in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and death and the lie of love.

I don't like jail, they got the wrong kind of bars in there.

in this room the hours of love still make shadows.

Never trust a man in a jumpsuit

Parties sickened me. I hated the game-playing, the dirty play, the flirting, the amateurs drunks, the bores.

I like the way Mahler wandered about in his music and still retained his passion. He must have looked like an earthquake walking down the street.

If it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.