I am ashamed to be a member of the human race but I don't want to add any more to that shame, I want to scrape a little of it off.

The years have gone by quickly. Death sits in the seat next to me. We make a lovely couple.

She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful, but she didn't have quite enough going for her to become what she imagined herself to be.

What good are you? What can you do? It has cost me a thousands of dollars to raise you, feed you, clothe you! Suppose I left you here on the street? Then what would you do?" "Catch butterflies

The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer, and worse than that, to know a number of other writers. Like flies on the same turd.

It’s nice enough to make a man weep, but I don’t weep, do you?

she knew what she wanted and it wasn't / me. / I know more women like that than any / other kind.