my youth, one time, that time I knew even through the nothingness, it was a celebration of something not to do but only know.

How are his poems?" "He's not as good as he thinks he is, but then most of us feel that way.

Early evening traffic was beginning to clog the avenue with cars. The sun slanted down behind him. Harry glanced at the drivers of the cars. They seemed unhappy. The world was unhappy. People were in the dark. People were terrified and disappointed. People were caught in traps. People were defensive and frantic. They felt as if their lives were being wasted. And they were right.

And if there is anybody out there who is crazy enough to want to become a writer, I'd say go ahead, spit in the eye of the sun, hit those keys, it's the best madness going, the centuries need help, the species cry for light and gamble and laughter. Give it to them. There are enough words for all of us.

With me, my main vision for life was to avoid as many people as possible. The less people I saw the better I felt.

The writer has no responsibility other than to jack off in bed alone and write a good page.

One more drink and you're dead. This is no way to talk to a suicide head.