What is an artist? He's a man who has antennae, who knows how to hook up to the currents which are in atmosphere, in the cosmos.

Part of the act of creating is in discovering your own kind. They are everywhere. But don't look for them in the wrong places.

The wallpaper with which the men of science have covered the world of reality is falling to tatters. The grand whorehouse which they have made of life requires no decoration; it is essential that only the drains function adequately. Beauty, that feline beauty that has us by the balls in America, is finished.

To be joyous is to be a madman in a world of sad ghosts.

He is trying to recapture his innocence, yet all he succeeds in doing (by writing) is to inoculate the world with a virus of his disillusionment.

In every man's heart there is anchored a little schooner.

Even the idiot may have a message for us