There was nothing glorious about the life of a drinker or the life of a writer.

Human relationships are strange. I mean, you are with one person a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together, and then it stops.

I went to the bathroom and threw some water on my face, combed my hair. If I could only comb that face, I thought, but I can't.

Writing is like going to bed with a beautiful woman and afterwards she gets up, goes to her purse and gives me a handful of money.

Experience can dull. With most men experience is a series of mistakes; the more experience you have the less you know.

The whole LSD, STP, marijuana, heroin, hashish, prescription cough medicine crowd suffers from the "Watchtower" itch: you gotta be with us, man, or you're out, you're dead. This pitch is a continual and seeming MUST with those who use the stuff. It's no wonder they keep getting busted.

and then there are some who believe that old relationships can be revived and made new again. but please if you feel that way don't phone don't write don't arrive