It’s nice enough to make a man weep, but I don’t weep, do you?

I have been treated better than I should have been---not by life in general nor by the machinery of things but by women.

We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting

beware those quick to praise for they need praise in return beware those who are quick to censor they are afraid of what they do not know beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone beware the average man the average woman beware their love, their love is average seeks average

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.

beware the average man the average woman beware their love, their love is average seeks average but there is genius in their hatred there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you to kill anybody not wanting solitude not understanding solitude they will attempt to destroy anything that differs from their own not being able to create art they will not understand art they will consider their failure as creators only as a failure of the world

Love dries up, I thought as I walked back to the bathroom, even faster than sperm.