After all, a homeless man has reason to cry, everything in the world is pointed against him.

Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.

If critics say your work stinks it's because they want it to stink and they can make it stink by scaring you into conformity with their comfortable little standards. Standards so low that they can no longer be considered "dangerous" but set in place in their compartmental understandings.

Somebody had tipped the American continent like a pinball machine and all the goofballs had come rolling to LA in the southwest corner. I cried for all of us. There was no end to the American sadness and the American madness. Someday we'll all start laughing and roll on the ground when we realize how funny it's been.

Is Virgin you trying to fathom me

I realized either I was crazy or the world was crazy; and I picked on the world. And of course I was right.

The road must eventually lead to the whole world.