I'm going to marry my novels and have little short stories for children.

And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.

Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind.

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.

Mankind is like dogs, not gods - as long as you don't get mad they'll bite you - but stay mad and you'll never be bitten. Dogs don't respect humility and sorrow.

the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.

Paris is a woman but London is an independent man puffing his pipe in a pub.