I think that the world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just cats and rain, rain and cats, very nice, good night.

I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I didn't particularly want money. I didn't know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn't have to do anything. The thought of being something didn't only appall me, it sickened me . . . To do things, to be part of family picnics, Christmas, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Mother's Day . . . was a man born just to endure those things and then die? I would rather be a dishwasher, return alone to a tiny room and drink myself to sleep.

They looked as if nothing had ever touched them--all well-mothered, protected, with a soft sheen of contentment. None of them had ever been in jail, or worked hard with their hands, or even gotten a traffic ticket. Skimmed-milk jollies, the whole bunch.

To not to have entirely wasted one’s life seems to be a worthy accomplishment, if only for myself.

You can forgive a fool because he only runs in one direction and doesn't deceive anybody. It's the deceivers who make you feel bad.

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 you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose.