A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.

Mind is the Maker, for no reason at all, for all this creation, created to fall.

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.

Go moan for man. It's the pathos of people that gets us down, all the lovers in this dream.

Mainly I've been back to my books and writings and being nice and quiet and lazy. As I'm writing this, the radio says there's a foot of snow falling on Long Island. I really love snow and wish I could take a long walk in it right now.

You'd be surprised how little I knew even up to yesterday

When you start separating people from their rivers, what have you got? Bureaucracy!