I can't think of any poet-recluses outside of one dead Jeffers. [Robinson Jeffers] The rest of them want to slobber over each other and hug each other. It appears to me that I am the last of the poet-recluses.

… and we are in bed together laughing and we don’t care about anything.

The hangover was brutal but he didn't mind. It told him he had been somewhere else, someplace good.

In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass.

I don't know if this is true to you but for me sometimes it gets so bad that anything else say like looking at a bird on an overhead power line seems as great as a Beethoven symphony. then you forget it and you're back again.

I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn't make for an interesting person. I didn't want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.

There is nothing that teaches you more than regrouping after failure and moving on.