So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.

At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.

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.

If you own a rug you own too much.

The more ups and downs, the more joy I feel. The greater the fear, the greater the happiness I feel.

Man, wow, there's so many things to do, so many things to write! How to even begin to get it all down and without modified restraints and all hung-up on like literary inhibitions and grammatical fears.

Be in love with your life, every detail of it.