Her eyes always had a frantic, lost look. He could never cure her eyes of that.

People who believe in politics are like people who believe in God: they are sucking wind through bent straws.

People don't do me much good.

As we go on with our lives we tend to forget that the jails and the hospitals and the madhouses and the graveyards are packed.

A yet women -good women- frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep. Basically I craved prostitutes, base women, because they were deadly and hard and made no personal demands. Nothing was lost when they left. Yet at the same time I yearned for a gentle, good woman, despite the overwhelming price.

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.

Art is its own excuse, and it's either Art or it's something else. It's either a poem or a piece of cheese.