How long should a man's legs be? Long enough to touch the ground.

The more expensive a school is, the more crooks it has — I'm not kidding.

Yet a real artist, I've noticed, will survive anything. (Even praise, I happily suspect.)

Just go to bed, now. Quickly. Quickly and slowly.

I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It’s disgusting.

You’d better get busy, though, buddy. The goddam sands run out on you every time You turn around. I know what I’m talking about. You’re lucky if you get time to sneeze In this goddam phenomenal world.

I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him, though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake--especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all.