I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train ran down along the coast we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, it’s not pretty.

I have one problem, I don’t hate people. They disgust me and I want to get away from them. I do not have hatred. I have an escape mechanism.

They never pay the slaves enough so they can get free, just enough so they can stay alive and come back to work.

I knew exactly what I was doing: I was doing nothing. because I knew there was nothing to do.

I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard.

I don't think I have written a poem when I was completely sober. But I have written a few good ones or a few bad ones under the hammer of a black hangover when I didn't know whether another drink or a blade would be the best thing.

If I hadn't been a drunkard, I probably would have committed suicide long ago.