Most people are much better at saying things in letters than in conversation, and some people can write artistic, inventive letters, but when they try a poem or story or novel they become pretentious.

my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.

my hands dead my heart dead silence adagio of rocks the world ablaze that's the best for me.

The human race had always disgusted me. essentially, what made them disgusting was the family-relationship illness, which included marriage, exchange of power and aid, which neighborhood, your district, your city, your county, your state, your nation-everybody grabbing each other's assholes in the Honeycomb of survival out of a fear-animalistic stupidity.

she’s mad, but she’s magic.

Any asshole can chase a skirt, art takes discipline.

You have to die a few times before you can really live.